


Blinded Hemispheres

by MagmaticKobaian



Category: Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall, Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Camp Nanowrimo, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossing Parallels, Ed hears about the high elves, Ed is very uncomfortable with necromancy and the undead being a thing, Elder Scrolls Lore, Gen, No Romance, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Roy comes to a reasonable and completely wrong conclusion, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Wizard!Ed, no beta we dye like men, temporary major character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 65,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagmaticKobaian/pseuds/MagmaticKobaian
Summary: Edward Elric was a sane, rational, down-to-earth person, even if a certain Colonel pretended he wasn’t. He didn’t believe in ghosts, he didn’t believe in magic or curses, and he certainly didn’t believe in the existence of other worlds.“If the supernatural really exists,” he would often say with a smirk, smugly folding his arms, “then show me the evidence.”One day, the universe decided to oblige him, and his life became one big Exhibit A. It’s hard enough to deal with being thrown into another universe without being forced to investigate the ghost of a king haunting his capital. Him and his big fucking mouth.Either way, that’s the last time he ever reads something from the Alternative section.Or:Roy isn’t prepared to deal with finding the corpse of Edward Elric. He definitely isn’t prepared to deal with his corpse waking up a few hours later and smashing his fist into Roy’s jaw. Even in death, the Fullmetal Alchemist is a pain in his ass.
Comments: 32
Kudos: 75





	1. From Worse To Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome to crossover hell. This has been an idea bouncing around on the inside of my skull like a ball on a screensaver for the better part of a month, and I decided I would try writing it for NaNoWriMo, with a goal of 100k words. I don’t have any compelling explanation for what caused me to think this was a good idea, other than that I like both things and had a vicious plot bunny that combined the two. As of the time of me posting this, I have about 20k words written, but I’ll try to space out when I update this to give me time to revise and edit (lmao) what I haven’t posted yet.  
> You should probably be familiar with at least FMA to get the most out of this fic, but while general Elder Scrolls knowledge would be helpful, I don’t think it should be required. Don’t worry if you aren’t one of the twelve people who have played Daggerfall, it should be accessible regardless.  
> I’m most familiar with 2003, so that’s the continuity I’ll be primarily pulling from if the differences become relevant, which they probably will. So, without further ado…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy finds himself in a bad situation. Ed finds himself in a worse one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now featuring Lore Corner, a segment where I briefly cover optional lore details that explain the world a bit more for people who don't know much about the Elder Scrolls! For more details, consult the chapter four author's notes.

Roy enjoyed receiving Fullmetal’s reports as much as the boy hated giving them, although he would never let the boy know. His irritation at his subordinate’s constant tardiness started off genuine, but after a few months and dozens of reports flew by, Roy began to notice patterns that offered insight into Edward’s mental state. His observations were simple, at first: The amount of time it took Ed to show up was directly correlated with how pissed off he was. Over time, however, more complex behaviors became apparent. 

Rainy or especially humid days meant an extra hour, because the water in the air would creep at the edges of Ed’s automail ports and cause aches. Roy silently made a mental note of it when he noticed Ed rubbing his shoulder and leg, when his mind was wandering or he thought nobody was looking, and a call to Alphonse once the boy had left confirmed it. If Ed was returning from somewhere far away, it was an extra thirty minutes, forty-five if the trip was particularly long. If he was sick, in the hospital, or otherwise indisposed, his brother would bring in the report, which usually meant Roy would get it on time.

Barring external circumstances, though, Roy realized the degree of Fullmetal’s tardiness was not just a function of anger, but of emotional well-being. On a good day, Ed was about fifteen minutes late. The few instances he arrived on time seemed more like freak accidents than anything, and the idea of Edward Elric actually coming in early to deliver a report was a concept that couldn’t yet be isolated by modern scientists. 

That aside, it was almost never a good day for Fullmetal. If he was an hour late, then he viewed his last assignment as insultingly beneath him, and wanted it out of his life as soon as possible, but not before trying to make the Colonel wait on him as punishment. Two hours late meant the mission had been particularly annoying in some regard, typically in a way that accentuated the boy’s literal shortcomings, and he would act even more defensive than normal. Three hours meant the mission exhausted Ed, and the boy showed up half-asleep, barely responding to Roy’s attempts at provocation. Four hours meant a lead on the Philosopher’s Stone that turned up nothing. Mustang dreaded those days the most: Seeing the headstrong and lively boy look so emotionally drained gave him an uncomfortable feeling that lasted for the rest of the day. Five hours meant something awful happened on the mission, but Ed wasn’t going to talk about it, at least not in person. He would usually find the lurid details in the report itself, and after reading them, usually resulted in making a few discreet house calls to Al to silently check in on the boy.

In a way, Fullmetal’s reports were just as much a description of himself as they were the mission, which Mustang took full advantage of. Edward was far too proud to be open with how he felt, and merely being asked by Roy would probably insult him deeply. By letting Ed be as closed-off as he wanted, he ironically became much more readable. All Roy needed was the time, a look at his face, and the sound of his voice.

Of course, it didn’t help that it was so fun to antagonize him.

As the clock struck four, the Fullmetal Alchemist was now six hours late with his report, which meant he was a no-show. The repetitive chimes of the bell hammered growing feelings of anxiety further into his chest. If Ed completely missed a meeting, then he either got the date wrong, or something bad had happened. The first time Ed failed to show up with a report, it had resulted in Mustang making a personal visit to his dorm room. It was immediately clear that the boy had just been angry at him for some reason or another, and the deep scowl and vivid blush that lit up his face as he wordlessly shoved a manila folder into Roy’s hands made it clear that he would do his damnedest to avoid any more unannounced visits from the Colonel. 

Roy never told anyone about these observations, and he certainly hadn’t told Edward, but he could tell from the way his team acted that they had at least picked up on some of this behavior. As Roy was reorganizing his pile of barely started paperwork for the final time that day, Riza spoke.

“Sir, shouldn’t you call Fullmetal? You haven’t received his report today.”

This was code for “ _You should call Alphonse._ ” Roy sighed, rubbing his temples. Having to sit here without knowing what was wrong made his stomach churn, but actually having to deal with whatever situation was occurring sounded like a recipe for a migraine. Realizing that both options were unappealing, he picked the one that at least made him look professional.

“Thank you, Hawkeye, that’s a very good suggestion.” His hand dialed the number at lightning speed, aided by years of muscle memory. He held the receiver to his ear, and the phone barely had time to warble out half a ring before someone picked up. The familiar clanking of metal and lack of profuse cursing made it immediately clear that it was Alphonse.

“ _Hello?_ ” the boy greeted hesitantly. 

“Alphonse? This is Colonel Roy Mustang. I was calling to ask if your brother was planning on delivering his report today.”

For a few seconds, there was nothing on the other end of the line but the quiet buzzing of the phone and the faint shifting of metal on metal.

“ _What?_ ” he replied, confused. His voice was a little louder, as if he had moved the receiver closer to his helmet. “ _Are you saying he didn’t deliver his report?_ ”

“I’m afraid not,” Roy said.

“ _But…_ ” Al was beginning to sound just as worried as Roy felt. “ _But this morning he left and said he would give it to you!_ ”

“Did he now?” Roy’s eyes narrowed. He had never known Ed to lie to his brother, but he supposed that Al could be in on it, whatever “it” was. It was possible that Edward wanted to give Roy the runaround for whatever reason, and was able to get Al to misdirect him. Or perhaps he really had planned to give him the report, but backed out? It was possible something extremely embarrassing happened during the last mission, and Ed was hesitant to share. Either way, he was going to find Fullmetal, one way or another, and get an explanation. “Is your brother home right now?”

“ _No, he’s out. He said he was going to spend some time in the library after he gave you the report. It’s been hours, but that’s not exactly unusual..._ ” It was clear Al hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but in light of new information, was beginning to worry further. “ _I hope he’s okay…_ ”

“I’m sure your brother is fine, Al. Would you mind if we came by the dorm? Perhaps I can get an idea of why he didn’t give me the report.”

“ _That’s fine. If I can help you with anything, please let me know!_ ”

“Alright, settle down. I’ll be right over.” With a click, he placed the receiver back on the phone. He sighed again. Even though he was almost off work, it felt like his real day had only just begun.

“Sir,” Hawkeye began, as professional as ever. “Would you like me to accompany you to pay a visit to Fullmetal?”

“Thank you for the offer, Hawkeye, but that shouldn’t be necessary.” Roy took a stack of papers in his hands, hitting them against the desk to straighten them out. Hitting his desk was cathartic, and briefly distracted his mind from the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

“With all due respect, sir, I feel it’s best if I go with you. The last time you visited the boys, you came to work the next day with a black eye.”

Roy grimaced. A few months ago, he sent Fullmetal out on an assignment in a town where tensions with the military reached a boiling point. A few days after he arrived, fighting broke out. One thing led to another, and at some point, a grenade explosion went off near him. Thankfully, there had been no lasting damage, but the intense light gave the boy flash blindness for a week. He conveniently omitted this detail when he told Mustang he was returning, and when he failed to show up with his report, Roy paid him a visit. Al reluctantly let him in, but Ed lashed at him, flailing like a wild animal with a leg stuck in a bear trap. Since the boy was blind, Roy hadn’t truly been in danger, but the boy’s unpredictable movements meant he took a nasty hook to his right eye. He traced a finger near the site of the injury, remembering how it had smarted.

“If you want to come with me, I won’t say no,” Roy stood up, moving towards the door, “but I can’t be held accountable for anything that happens in there.”

“He’s a young boy, not a wild animal.” Riza’s level headed responses almost made him feel bad for treating Edward the way he did, sometimes. Almost. Sometimes. 

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

* * *

The dorm was a twenty-minute walk from headquarters, which made Fullmetal’s constant tardiness that much more absurd. Given that the library was nearby, though, it was obvious where the extra hours were being spent. It was the perfect retreat. Nobody would question seeing a state alchemist lurk in the library for hours on end, and the huge, twisting corridors of shelves meant that a young boy of below-average stature could easily make himself disappear into the maze of books. And, whenever he did decide to grace Roy with his presence, the office was a stone’s throw away. Roy almost hated how neatly it all seemed to work.

When they arrived at the dorm, Roy immediately began to look around. He couldn’t touch too much, or Ed would notice. Mustang didn’t want to imagine Ed realizing the “bastard Colonel” rooted through his stuff. Riza decided she would stay outside the room, in order to see if Fullmetal was approaching.

Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any tell-tale signs of something strange going on. Roy honestly wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, at least by Ed’s standards. There were a dizzying amount of books scattered about, yet they were all carefully placed, with not a stray crease or crumpled page in sight. Roy smirked. It often seemed like he treated books more affectionately than he did actual people. There were piles upon piles of paper, all marked from top to bottom with notes. The handwriting was impeccable, but the notes themselves were still nearly illegible, filled with shorthand, references, and acronyms that likely only made sense to Ed. The only other thing of note was a lone pile of paper that stood a fair distance away from the rest of Edward’s research on the stone. When he stepped over to take a closer look (careful to avoid knocking over the fire hazard in the making), he noticed that the papers were covered in transmutation circles. However, Roy had never seen circles that looked anything like them. He turned towards Alphonse, who was looking anxiously at Roy.

“Alphonse, can you tell me anything about these circles?” He pointed toward the paper pile.

“What? Oh, those? That’s something brother has been working on recently,” he said. Roy raised an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t think he’d have enough time to work on anything that’s not related to the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“That’s just it. Lately, brother has been wondering if there might be a way to get our bodies back that doesn’t involve the Philosopher’s Stone.” Al brightened, as if he was briefly channeling his brother’s own passion for the subject. “I didn’t know if he would find anything, at first, but it actually seems like he might have a lead!”

Roy’s eyes widened even more. This was huge news. If Ed really did find a way to restore what they lost without a Philosopher’s Stone, the ramifications would be enormous. Roy hadn’t been there when Edward originally figured out how a Philosopher’s Stone was made, but he certainly saw the effect it had: there had been a sunken, haunted look in his eyes, the gaze of someone whose last hope was snatched away from their fingers. Thinking back, this would explain why Fullmetal had been uncharacteristically… cheerful, for lack of a better term, the past few weeks. 

Still, none of this explained why Edward hadn’t shown up to give his report, which was the reason he came here in the first place. Reluctantly, he swallowed the urge to ask Al further about his brother’s studies.

“You’ll have to tell me about it later, once I get my report from Fullmetal.” Roy stood up and looked out the window. It was still bright outside, but it was certainly getting very late in the afternoon. “I’ll be going to look for him in the library. If I don’t find him, I’ll call you and see if he came back here.”

“Okay…” Worry was beginning to creep back into Alphonse’s voice. “I hope he didn’t forget to eat again. When he gets too into his reading it's so easy for him to forget that sort of stuff, and since I don’t eat it's a lot harder for me to remember for him. Could you tell him to eat something when you find him?”

Roy blinked, taken slightly aback by the sudden request. He wondered how long Alphonse had been waiting to say this. “Sure, but is there any reason why you haven’t mentioned this before?”

Al let out a soft gasp, then looked away, almost a bit ashamed.

“W-well, I wanted to, but Ed wouldn’t let me tell you…” Roy resisted the urge to roll his eyes, since his exasperation wasn’t aimed at the younger brother. “I was worried about it, but it wasn’t really a big deal, so I agreed. But lately he’s been so caught up in this research that he’s been missing more and more meals. He almost passed out from hunger, once. Oh, no, I wasn’t supposed to tell you about that!” A gauntlet shot up to the front of Al’s helmet, as if he was covering his mouth. Roy frowned. Ed was obsessive in his pursuit of his goals, but never this obsessive. They were going to have a talk, whether Edward wanted to or not.

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him about it,” Roy said honestly. “Goodbye, Alphonse.” As he left the room, his eyes met with Hawkeye’s. Though she was silent as they walked away, it was clear she was just as worried as Roy was.

* * *

Despite being a state alchemist, Roy hadn’t come to the library very often, relative to others, at least. He certainly wasn’t here as often as Ed was, which was every day, unless he wasn’t in East City due to being on assignment or following a lead. The boy probably knew the place like the back of his hand. Roy imagined that the boy was probably too absorbed in a book to actively hide from him, so at least he wasn’t trying to find a moving needle in a haystack.

The first stop, naturally, was the alchemy section, where Edward could be found most of the time. Unfortunately, after scouring the entire thing (no mean feat, considering it was the largest section in the library) he had to conclude that the boy wasn’t there.

“But if he isn’t here, then where is he?” Roy said, as much to himself as to Hawkeye. His eyes scanned over the directories, trying to figure out where to search next. He was starting to regret not asking Alphonse at least a little bit more about what Ed’s new research project concerned.

_I can definitely cross out fiction. I doubt he’s looking at the art or music section, or the law one, for that matter. I don’t think it would be agriculture, and I don’t think it would be anything concerning regular science or technology._

That narrowed down the options considerably, but he was still looking at over half the library to search through. That could take until next morning, and the very idea of staying up all night looking for Edward Elric in the library made his headache grow worse.

“This is going to take way too much time to search through,” he said, rubbing his temple. “I wish I could narrow it down more…”

“Do you remember anything from his dorm?” Riza looked at him, interrogating him with her eyes. “Anything at all that might help?”

Roy thought about it for a moment. He had seen those strange circles, but they already checked the alchemy section. It didn’t seem like they correlated to anything else, so he was stuck back at a dead end.

“Unless you know any contexts where an alchemy circle doesn’t mean alchemy, I’m out of ideas.”

She closed her eyes, considering the statement. Roy looked back at the list, hoping to see if he missed the Edward Elric section, when she suddenly spoke up.

“What about the Alternative section?”

Roy made a face that was a mixture of disgust and disappointment. “Alternative” was the polite label for garbage pseudoscience that had no basis in reality. It was a revolting mix of snake oil peddling, outdated science, and mystic mumbo-jumbo. The only reason they had a section for it in the library at all was out of a desire for completeness and the very slim potential that one of those books had something worth looking at. If Roy had his way, the entire section would be burned. His eyes had automatically slid over it when looking at the directory, as he immediately assumed Ed wouldn’t waste his time with something like that.

“Fullmetal doesn’t strike me as the type to be into crystal healing and leech remedies.”

“I understand your distaste, sir, but if what Edward is researching is literally an alternative to alchemy…”

Roy grumbled. As much as he hated to admit it, Hawkeye was right about things, as she usually was. He supposed that he could begrudgingly accept the idea that something of worth was unfairly categorized into the section, and that Edward was there to find it. If Mustang came all this way just to see his subordinate reading a book on homeopathy… He might have to repay him for the black eye.

“Fine. At least it isn’t a very big section.”

They had barely started searching when they found him, asleep at a table tucked into a corner. A huge stack of books lay before him on the table, almost like a wall. A handful of books were splayed open, which lay on any surface adjacent to Ed. Roy smiled as he looked over the sleeping boy. He had to admit that despite his irritation at everything that had happened that day, he couldn’t help but think the boy was cute, sleeping like this.

“Should we wake him up, sir?” Riza whispered. Roy simply nodded in response. They had spent far too much time searching for Edward to simply walk away now, and he needed to expect at least _some_ degree of accountability from his subordinate. He gently stepped forward, Hawkeye moving dutifully behind him.

He wasn’t eager to shake the boy awake, but given that they were in a library, loud noises weren’t an option. As he got closer, he suddenly felt a growing feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. It was so abrupt and unnerving that Roy unwittingly slowed his pace, which caused Hawkeye to almost bump into him. The dread set him on edge, but almost as bad was not knowing what he was dreading in the first place.

“Ed?” he said quietly. If the boy heard him, he didn’t respond. The noise didn’t even seem to stir him at all.

“Fullmetal?” he said in a voice that was about as loud as he would dare muster in a library. No response. His stomach twisted on itself once more.

_Stop being ridiculous_ , Roy thought to himself, _this is stupid. It’s just Edward, passed out in a library in front of some books._

_Is he really passed out?_ another part of his brain thought back, _Is he really sleeping?_

_What kind of question is that? Look at him._

Roy did look at him, more closely this time. He had stopped moving, even though he was still multiple feet away from Ed. There was nothing wrong with his appearance: he was still wearing that garish red coat, and he could see the black getup he normally wore peeking out from under it. He was still wearing those gloves, to conceal his automail. So what was wrong with this image? Roy stared for a few moments later, until the realization hit him like a freight train.

There was no familiar rising or falling of the chest. Edward wasn’t breathing.

Without thinking, he moved towards the boy. Hawkeye didn’t follow at first, too shocked by the sudden movement. Roy put a hand on Ed’s shoulder, and felt no movement. There wasn’t any sound of breathing, either. Roy was hearing ringing in his ears, and he thought Hawkeye might have said something, but he couldn’t understand it. Mustering up all of his willpower, Mustang moved a hand towards Edward’s neck, to check his pulse.

Nothing. And even though the body was warm, it wasn’t warm enough. Edward’s corpse had likely been sitting here for several hours while the library staff were blissfully unaware. He looked back at Riza. Though he hadn’t said a word, the look in his eye was all she needed to see. Her eyes widened, and she froze. After a few of the longest seconds in Roy’s life ticked by, she turned away, unable to look him in the eyes.

The reality of it still refused to set in. Roy knew it would eventually, sooner or later, and when it did, he wouldn’t be able to function. Ignoring the numbing feeling crawling over his skin, he spoke.

“We…” he stopped, the sentence dying on his lips. It felt like his tongue was swollen and his mouth was full of cotton. “Please tell the library staff there’s a body. I’ll stay here.”

She nodded and ran, looking too eager to leave the scene. Roy didn’t blame her. Despite how both of them felt, neither could let themselves cry in front of the other. Roy hated himself for it. A child was dead, and here he was, still caring about his pride.

Tears began to run down Roy’s face. He didn’t stop them.

* * *

No sequence of swear words existed that accurately conveyed how Ed felt at the moment. If one did, though, he imagined it would involve copious use of the word—

“FUCK!” he yelled, but his words were drowned by the wind and sea.

He woke up to a thunderstorm, more violent than any other in his life. It felt like the sky was being ripped apart and torn to pieces by an angry god, and the rain was coming down so hard and fast it felt like he was being pelted to death with those same pieces. He found himself clutching the mast of a ship that was quickly sinking into the ocean, and the cold waters were beginning to numb his legs. For whatever reason, he was wearing a robe. The problem of his survival was much more pressing than thinking insulting comments about himself and his choice of attire, so he tried to look through the storm for any sign of salvation. He could barely even see his own hands, though, and he was about to give up hope when a sudden bolt of lightning illuminated the world around him.

There was a cave in front of him, perched above a rocky outcropping, close enough that he could easily swim to its entrance. He was already halfway through the air, diving into the water, when he remembered he didn’t know how to swim.

He panicked as the water roared over him, but miraculously, he found himself not flailing, but making his way towards the cave. It was entirely muscle memory — muscle memory that he had no _actual_ memory of ever having established. The mystery of his sudden swimming skills would have to remain unsolved until Ed was at least sixty percent sure he wasn’t in danger of immediate death.

His hands thrashed forward through the water until they clawed against rocks, sharp and slick but large enough to provide leverage. He grasped at them like a lifeline, pulling himself out of the water through sheer force of adrenaline and willpower. He stumbled forward onto the rock and into the cave, wanting to be as far from the water as possible.

Apparently, the cave agreed with his goal, because a few moments later there was a giant mudslide. It came crashing down at the entrance, sealing off the passage to the ocean forever.

“Oh, haha!” Ed yelled, in a fit of delirium. “Dying in a cave-in isn’t much better than dying at sea!”

The rocks did not respond, seeing as they were inanimate objects. Ed was still watching them, though, to make sure they didn’t try anything funny. Like falling on his head. Well, he was watching them conceptually, but it was so fucking dark that he couldn’t tell the difference between having his eyes open or closed.

“This is just great,” he said, “you’re such a fucking genius, Ed!”

It wasn’t even sarcasm. It took a true level of talent to fuck up as hard as he had.

He grasped around in the darkness, hoping to find literally anything. Luckily, this was a small cave, and it didn’t take much searching to find the trunk of a dead tree. The part Ed touched seemed to be waterlogged, though, so he would have to dry it out.

“Well, at least I’m good for one thing,” he said, clapping his hands and placing them on the log.

Nothing.

He frowned, clapped again, and placed them back on the log.

Nothing.

It was very, very tempting to start swearing again, but the “I don’t wanna die” part of his brain was starting to overtake the “all-consuming anger” part. Slowly, he moved his hands along the log, trying to find a piece of it that hadn’t been soaked by water. Thankfully, the back section of it seemed much drier. He could probably start a fire with it. All he needed was a spark.

_Of course, the one time I need the Colonel, he’s nowhere to be found,_ he bitched to himself. He had stopped speaking out loud, partly because that wasn’t really a habit he wanted to encourage in himself, but also out of the realization that if the cave was airtight, he was running on a limited oxygen supply. The fire wasn’t exactly going to help with that, but being able to see would at least help him find a way to escape.

He realized that he had a backpack on him, and was thankful that he hadn’t unwittingly thrown it into the ocean. He placed it on the ground, popped the latch, and began to feel for anything that might be useful for starting a spark. After a few seconds of searching, he cut his hand on something metallic.

“Gah!” he shouted, quickly retracting his hand. He added a softer “fuck,” as he placed the cut to his mouth. It was a very small cut, thankfully, nothing he had to worry about for—

Wait a fucking second. He had been searching through the bag with his _right_ hand. But he felt that cut. There was a warm, metallic taste on his lips. Blood.

With a shaky hand, he carefully removed the blade from the backpack. He numbly fumbled around for a large rock on the ground, finding one easily. He got near the wood, and struck the blade of the dagger as hard as he could with the rock. Sparks flew, and one landed squarely on the wood. Soon, a few embers became a fire, and Ed could see again.

The first thing he saw was the fact that, yes, he had two fucking arms.

Hardly even daring to believe it, he pulled up the hem of his robe (which he was now in a stable enough state of mind to properly acknowledge as fucking stupid) and revealed he had two flesh-and-blood feet.

Edward was quickly beginning to form a theory about what happened, but he still didn’t have enough evidence, though he wasn’t sure any amount of evidence would be enough for something as crazy as this. He took the collar of his robe and gently pulled to look at his own shoulder.

There was no scar. There was no sign of anything that might indicate that his arm had ever been gone. A quick check confirmed the same was true of his leg.

“What the fuck.”

Now that he heard his voice a bit more, he realized that it sounded… off. It was still basically his voice, but it sounded a bit too deep, like he was a few years older than he actually was. And now that he looked a bit more closely, he definitely didn’t remember his legs being that long. Experimentally, he stood up, and almost immediately fell over. His whole center of balance felt fucked up, like he had somehow grown a foot (or two!) overnight.

No matter what had happened, this was definitely not the body he had about… five minutes ago? Was that how long it had been since he was in the library?

It could have been five hours, for all Ed cared, because the fact of the matter was that he was a long way from home.

_I hope the Colonel doesn’t want that report in person…_

Ed stood up once more, forcing himself to adjust to being taller. He emphasized the “er” part in his head as he wiggled the fingers on his right arm, entranced by the way they moved.

_If this isn’t my body, then where_ is _my body?_

His body had to be back at the library, right? That’s where he left it, after all. Then what was it doing, without him in it? He really hoped the previous inhabitant of his current body hadn’t swapped places or something.

Ed shivered, mostly from the water, but also the thoughts running through his head. He hated that phrase. “Current body.” It made him sound like some kind of monster, swapping around in different people’s bodies to try to preserve himself, or something like that. Subconsciously, his left hand had been creeping up around his neck, but it instantly recoiled when it touched his skin.

His skin was cold. Not just from the water: He was literally cold to the bone. He could feel a pulse, but it was sluggish, like his heart had taken a break and was only just now getting back to work.

Had he been _dead_? It made a certain kind of sense: He was in the middle of a nasty storm, and there were plenty of things out there that could have led to a person dying. If the previous owner kicked the bucket, then their soul probably moved on to greener pastures, leaving their body back home without a soul. But a body without a soul was just a corpse. Assuming he wasn’t living out some sort of weird death fever dream, his corpse was probably just sitting in the library, sleeping. The mental image of his own dead body wasn’t one Ed wanted to dwell on for much longer, so he turned his attention to himself.

If he had to guess, the previous owner (he really needed a name for them) was older than Ed. He couldn’t say how much older, but his first guess seemed to be that he was in his early twenties. Being a different age was sort of uncomfortable, but he could handle twenty, at least. He was taller, and had four functional limbs. If the robe was anything to go by, his fashion sense had been terrible.

He knelt back down, rummaging through the backpack again with the aid of the firelight. Strangely, nothing in here seemed wet. In fact, nothing seemed damaged at all. Ed frowned. That seemed like a bit more than just luck. More like physically impossible. There was something to it, but it was a question he wasn’t equipped to answer, so he simply allowed himself to search.

Inside was a letter, which was unsealed. He didn’t know if it was supposed to have been opened, but since it already was, he might as well take a look. He unfurled it and began to read.

The first thing he discovered was that the previous owner’s name was Edwyval, and he was eternally grateful that it wasn’t just Edward again. Edwyval might be kind of a stupid name, but at least he was able to differentiate it from his own.

The second was that he was apparently on a secret mission for the Emperor, as an agent of the Blades. He didn’t know who the Emperor was or who the Blades were, but he was pretty sure it was some sort of special operations military group.

Edward frowned. Even his alternate dimension counterparts were stuck working for the fucking military.

There was also something about a ghost haunting the capital of Daggerfall, wherever that was, but Ed figured he’d cross that bridge when he got there. He wasn’t currently mentally prepared to accept the existence of ghosts.

He went through more of the bag, and his hand stumbled across two books. One looked worn, and looked to be some sort of non-fictional account. He could read that when he wasn’t teetering on the edge of death. The second seemed even more well-used. He pulled it out, examining its cover.

“Spellbook,” Edward read out loud. “Fuck me.”

If he wasn’t able to accept the existence of ghosts right now, he was super not ready to accept the existence of magic. Then again, what else could explain how he wound up in this situation? He supposed there was only one way to try.

He flipped open the spellbook, leafing through it. It wasn’t actually very long; it seemed as though there were a bunch of blank pages where more stuff was supposed to go. He flipped back to the first page, trying to read what was written there.

He understood the first word well enough — “Fireball” — but the rest wasn’t a language he had ever seen before. And yet, he could read it. Edward wouldn’t go as far as saying it made sense, because nothing had been for a while, but he could understand it. The words seemed to pour into his mind like water into a cup, freely giving him their knowledge. He slowly read the few other pages that had been filled out. Aside from a few similar entries labelled “Heal,” “Levitate,” “Water Breathing,” “Teleport,” and “Light,” the rest of the book was blank.

Even after he had closed the book, the words from the page felt like they had been etched permanently onto his mind. Ed’s memory had always been sharp, but never outright photographic. Yet he felt as if he could recite the words from the book as if he had known them his whole life.

He stood up and looked towards an empty patch of cave wall. After all, he needed some space to try to make a fireball.

God. He felt so fucking stupid. Here he was, in the middle of a cave, potentially suffocating to death, and he was trying to cast magic. Even though he wished earlier that the Colonel had been there to make a fire, he would rather have died in the mudslide than have him here for this.

Tentatively, he raised a hand. He felt twinges of muscle memory, pulling his fingers to move in odd directions. He obeyed, figuring Edwyval probably knew how to do this better than he did. As his hands moved in slow, deliberate circles, he began to have a vague inkling of how this all worked. It wasn’t just reciting a set of magic words that caused something to happen. There were rules to this, he could feel it. But whatever rules they were, it was incomparable to alchemy. Alchemy was just an extension of the natural world, but there was something decidedly supernatural about this. It felt as if he were trying to will something completely new into existence, and it was actually working. Suddenly, he felt a tension in the air, as if his hand were moving through water. With a flick of his hand, he made a pushing direction towards the wall.

From nowhere, a blazing ball of fire roared to life, racing forward, self-contained, along an invisible path. When it hit the wall, it burst and dissipated, leaving nothing but a jagged patch singed stone as evidence of its existence.

Edward stared at his hands in disbelief. There was not even the vaguest hint that a fire had ever been there.

Ed had occasionally wondered what he might do if faced with hard evidence of a genuine miracle, or the existence of magic. He always imagined that he would be left stunned, awed, or generally humbled. After all, he would be witnessing something that by its very nature defied the laws of reality.

Instead, Edward pumped his fist in the air, cheering to himself.

“I can do it _without_ gloves!” he shouted to the heavens, staring up at the cave ceiling defiantly. “Fuck you, Mustang!”

Maybe he could deal with ghosts.

Ed looked around a bit, wondering if he had missed anything, when he saw a small passage leading off from the cave to his left. He crept toward it slowly, and he could feel a cool blast of air sink into his bones. Air. He wouldn’t have to suffocate to death. He could escape.

But for now, he realized, as a heavy fatigue washed over him, he needed some sleep. He found the comfiest spot on the log and lay his head against it, falling under immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORE CORNER: THE INTRO  
> Ed's unfortunate situation in the cave is exactly where Daggerfall starts. The player character has the option of choosing what their background is, which involves a series of twelve questions that determine starting reputations, skills, advantages, disadvantages, and items. This includes the dagger and the book, but also training in magic. In any case, you wind up stranded in a cave, with no choice but to try and make your escape. Once you do, you may choose to follow the orders you were given to investigate a ghost haunting Daggerfall.  
> The protagonist is basically a complete blank slate, but it can probably be assumed they're at least a young adult in age. Other than that, they're completely anonymous, free to forge their own path.


	2. Alternating Current

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed wakes up. Roy thinks he's still dreaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, chapter 2, one week later! So far I've written about 44k words. This chapter is half as long as the last, since I figured 6k words was kind of long for one chapter. To compensate, I'll probably update more frequently, maybe twice a week.  
> Shout outs to the people who read this fic in the first twelve hours after I posted it, when I accidentally forgot to include the summary. And even for the people who didn't. It warms my heart that so many people wanted to read my self-indulgent crossover.
> 
> Now featuring Lore Corner! See chapter four author's notes for details.

It didn’t take long for medics to arrive. Roy quickly stepped aside as a team of people dressed in white ran past him, destroying the unspoken rules of library decorum. A pair of them knelt by either side of the boy, taking his vitals, but one of them soon shook his head. The last spark of hope that Roy still held in his heart had been snuffed out.

“We’ll be taking him directly to the morgue,” one of the men said, trying not to look Mustang directly in the eyes, “I’m sure you understand.”

Mustang merely grunted in acknowledgement. Soon, Edward’s body had been lifted onto a stretcher, then taken away.

A tidal wave of questions slammed through his mind. It was as if being out of the boy’s presence was allowing him to think again.

_ How am I going to tell Alphonse? Or the Rockbells? Or his mentor? What is Al going to do without Edward? What am  _ I  _ going to do without Edward? _

As much as he would have hated to admit it before, he had grown extremely fond of the boy. The idea that he would never again hear him yell about being called short or insist he would find the Philosopher’s Stone… It was still refusing to sink in for Mustang, because his mind simply refused to process the idea.

Regardless, though, he had to tell Alphonse. There was no way of getting around that. With a resigned slouch, he began to trudge towards the nearest phone.

The conversation had gone about as well as Roy could have hoped, which is to say, not at all. When Roy first told Al, he seemed to be in disbelief, and decided to go see the Colonel in person. Roy walked outside the library to see a giant suit of armor running at him from the direction of the dorms. Al looked like he was about to argue with him, but when he saw the stretcher where his brother lay, all doubt was instantly erased from his mind. With an unholy wail, Al fell to the ground, wrenched by tearless sobs. Roy said nothing. He didn’t know if anything he could have said would have helped.

Roy noticed Riza emerge from the library, looking fraught. He pretended not to notice the fact that her eyes were much redder than they had been when she left.

“Sir,” she began in an uneven voice, “I’ll inform the rest of the team about… about what’s happened. You should go with them to the morgue.”

This was code for “ _ You told Alphonse, so this is an even trade. You need time to mourn by yourself. _ ”

Roy simply lowered his head, which Riza took as confirmation. She ran off, leaving Roy with just Alphonse.

“C-Colonel?” he said, his voice sounding soaked with tears. “Could I come with you? With brother?”

Roy nodded again. No matter how he felt about it, he knew he had no right to deny something like that to Alphonse. The two silently boarded the ambulance, each one standing on either side of the stretcher. They sped off into the night, the sun beginning to sink lower below the horizon.

He hated the morgue. Seeing so many dead bodies gathered in one place made him feel like he was back in Ishval all over again. The powerful smell of formaldehyde was nearly burning his nose, too, which wasn’t helping. Alphonse was huddled in a corner, not speaking. Roy couldn’t tell if he was really aware of his surroundings at the moment, and it wasn’t like he could look at his face or eyes for clues. He decided to leave the boy alone, since Roy couldn’t imagine he wanted to hear anything from the man right now.

They hadn’t been allowed to see the body at first, being kept at a distance just outside the room with only a clock to keep the company. Roy frowned as he saw the clock indicate they had been stuck waiting out here for nearly an hour-and-a-half. He hadn’t often had the misfortune of having to go to the morgue directly, but his experiences with these types of situations hadn’t taken nearly as long. 

His confusion was answered as a mousy looking lady stepped out from the morgue. She looked exhausted and on edge, with visible bags under her eyes. She quickly snapped to attention when she saw the Colonel. Roy could see her name tag on her chest, which read, “Mirriam Jensen”.

“Sir,” she began, in a way that reminded Roy of Hawkeye, “we’re just about ready to allow you in, but there’s a few things we need to tell you—”

“Then tell me.” Roy had already been feeling irritable that day, and this situation had made it even worse. He would probably regret snapping at the woman later, but most of his decision-making skills were being drowned out by the burning image of the lifeless corpse waiting for him.

Mirriam blinked and took a step back, but regained her composure quickly. 

“I understand your concern, Colonel, but I’m not sure how to tell you some of this. We’re sort of at a loss here.”

Roy was caught just as much off-guard as Mirriam had been. “What do you mean, ‘at a loss’?”

She pulled up a clipboard, flipping through its contents.

“To begin with, we were completely unable to determine his cause of death. We weren’t able to find any external injuries, and his record doesn’t indicate any preexisting conditions that might lead to premature death. Is it possible he was hiding anything?”

“No.” Both adults looked over at Alphonse, who had spoken for the first time in hours. He looked the woman dead in the eye. “If something was wrong with him, I would have known.”

Mirriam looked towards Mustang. “And this is…?”

“His brother.”

She made a noise, then looked back down at the clipboard. “I’m sorry.” Roy didn’t know if she was apologizing for questioning Alphonse or the death of his brother.

“In any case, in what little we were able to determine without an autopsy, he seems perfectly healthy. Other than the fact that he’s dead, of course. However, this wasn’t the strangest part.”

The two sat in silence, waiting on bated breath for an answer.

“There are a handful of characteristic signs that appear in various time intervals after death. We often use them as identifiers to determine what time exactly that the person died. There are a few signs present, naturally, the most obvious being the lack of a heartbeat and a steadily dropping internal temperature — algor mortis. His temperature indicates that he was probably dead for about five hours when you found him.”

Mustang was suddenly thankful that he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to eat anything since breakfast.

“However…” The woman paused, looking down at her clipboard, fumbling for words. “However, his other signs of death aren’t consistent. Rigor mortis begins to set in two to six hours after death, but we found no signs of it. Even more concerning, though, is the lack of pallor mortis — the paling of skin immediately after death. It only takes about fifteen minutes for the body to begin to pale, but it hasn’t happened to nearly the degree that it should.”

Roy said nothing, silently taking in the information. He had a great deal of experience with dead bodies, far more than he ever wanted, and he had never heard of anything like this before. Even in death, it seemed Edward Elric was refusing to die.

“It’s for this reason that we’ve currently decided to suspend an autopsy indefinitely.” She looked toward the Colonel, mustering all the courage she could to look him in the eyes. “If it’s possible, we’d like to observe him for longer. However, you have the authority in this situation, so the decision ultimately rests with you.”

Suspend an autopsy? Since they couldn’t determine the cause of death without one, that means Roy would have no clue what killed the boy. If he had been poisoned or drugged, then he would never know it, and if the cause of death were something unnatural, it would be that much harder to find his killer. Yet something was bothering him about all of this. It had been hours since Edward had died, but the reality still hadn’t set in. He thought he was just shocked, but that should have worn off hours ago. Either Roy was going to crash harder than he could have ever imagined, or something fishy was going on. Maybe both. Despite his authority, however, he didn’t feel he was the one who should make the final decision. He turned towards the forlorn suit of armor huddled against the wall.

“Alphonse?” Roy tried to keep his voice firm but gentle. “What’s your decision?”

Al’s helmet jerked up, looking as shocked as a piece of inflexible metal was capable of.

“Me? You’ll let me decide?”

Did Alphonse really think he was just going to cut him out of the decision like that? 

“Of course. He is your brother, after all.”

There was a pregnant pause as Al deliberated. After a few minutes of silence had ticked by, he spoke up.

“...don’t do the autopsy.” He stood up, asserting himself. “I don’t want them cutting open my brother.”

Mirriam pursed her lips, nodding. “Understood. I’ll give you some time alone with him. I trust you have enough sense not to mess with anything in there.”

Roy would have liked to reprimand the woman for suggesting he was a child, unable to keep his hands to himself, but he simply nodded. The sooner he could get in there, the better.

He heard Alphonse make a soft gasp from behind him as they entered the heart of the morgue. Fullmetal’s body had been laid out on a large table in the center of the room. He had been stripped of his clothes, and even his braid had been undone, leaving his deceptively long hair splayed to the sides. Despite being far less pale than the other dead bodies in the morgue, he was far more haunting, and Roy stared at him, entranced. The room was cold, which only furthered the numbness creeping across his skin.

Alphonse ran forward and stood directly before the corpse. His hands hovered over Ed, stopping just short of actually touching him.

“Brother…” His voice was hiccupy and soaked. “I’m so sorry, brother… you’ve done so much for me, but I c-couldn’t do anything f-for you...”

Roy felt downright voyeuristic, watching Al grieve. He felt like an intruder for even being here, sullying the moment with his presence. He looked away, not wanting to watch any more. He didn’t need his eyes to hear Alphonse sobbing, anyway. The crying came in great waves, and any time it seemed like he was calming down, he would suddenly double over, his voice sounding twice as pained as it had before. Roy’s attempt at putting on a brave face seemed pathetic in comparison to his raw and unabashed show of grief.

After what felt like years had passed by, Alphonse lifted himself up from the floor. He dared to lightly brush a strand of Ed’s hair with a finger, which lightly passed across the boy’s face. He turned to Mustang, who wondered once again how a suit of armor could be so expressive.

“Gonna… go call Winry,” he mumbled, stepping slowly toward the exit. He lingered at the doorway, giving one last look at his brother, then ran out quickly. Roy, once again, was alone with the body. He stepped in front of it, roughly where Alphonse had been.

_ What can I even say?,  _ he thought, staring at the motionless body. If Ed weren’t a state alchemist, he would still be alive, Roy was sure of it. If he had never suggested the idea to Ed, if he had never allowed him to take the state alchemist exam, if he had never encouraged him to seek the Philosopher’s Stone when he knew how dangerous that quest was…

Visions of Ishval, Hughes, and Ed swam in his vision. When so many tragedies occur right in front of you, eventually you have to look at the common denominator. Roy looked up, out the window, where the sun had set a while ago, leaving the sky an inky black color. When he was alone, his thoughts spiraled, desperately racing down dark paths.

“Maybe the world doesn’t need people like me,” he thought aloud. If he wasn’t around, he wouldn’t be able to hurt people any more. 

That was when it hit him.

Literally.

* * *

Ed realized a few things after he had woken up.

For one, he definitely wasn’t in the cave. He could tell he was lying on something metal, and he could definitely tell that two of his limbs were decidedly less fleshy. Wherever he was was cold, and he couldn’t hear the roar of the fire. He also felt like shit, but what else was new? Hesitantly, he opened an eye.

Mustang was standing over him, but he was looking out into the distance at nothing in particular. Ed squinted when he realized the Colonel’s eyes were looking a lot redder than normal. Had he been  _ crying _ ? Ed didn’t have any time to get over his shock before he heard Mustang speak.

“Maybe the world doesn’t need people like me,” the man slurred. Yeah, he had definitely been crying. It took Ed a few seconds to process what he had just heard, but once he did, he felt a surge of anger. The only way he was going to let the Colonel wallow in self-pity and misery was over his dead body. Tensing his automail hand, he shot his arm up, giving Roy a mean right hook to the jaw. Despite his anger, he had to wince as he heard the sound of teeth clacking against each other, and again as Roy’s head made contact with the linoleum.

Roy didn’t seem as concerned with his injury as he did with Edward himself, however. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates, and he scrambled to his feet, pressing himself against a far wall. Ed scowled.

“What the hell are you looking at me like that for? What’s the matter with you?”

Roy looked like he was trying to say something, but his mouth simply opened and closed several times. He looked a bit like a fish.

Ed attempted to try lifting himself from wherever he was lying, but his muscles had other plans. He simply plopped back down with a frustrated growl.

“You’re lucky I can’t get up right now,” he said, turning his head to the side, “or I would be kicking your ass.”

Roy didn’t even look like he could take the bait. After a bit more fumbling, he managed to eke out a few words.

“But…” He looked to his sides, as if he was waiting for someone else to step forward. “Dead…”

“Who the hell is dead, asshole? It’s certainly not me!” Ed’s anger was dying down, though, and rational thought began to take its place. His sleep-addled mind was starting to put the pieces together again. When his mind had gone to wherever the hell that cave was, he had left his body vacant, and essentially dead. He was lucky he didn’t wake up as a brain in a jar, or six feet under, at least. 

Before he could say anything, though, he felt a powerful wave of nausea hit him. He grimaced as his vision darkened and filled with noise. He heard the Colonel call his name from off to the side. It felt like something was pulling him, like he was getting dragged away by a riptide. Though it was an entirely foreign sensation to him, he knew exactly what this meant.

“Wait,” he began, fighting against the pain, “wait a second. Okay. Mustang. I need you to do something.”

A pause. “What?” He didn’t know if that was a genuine question or an expression of confusion, but he didn’t give a shit.

“Don’t let them fuck with my body, alright? Don’t let them cut me open, or…” He was trailing off, fighting to keep his mind there. “Or bury me or… something…”

If Mustang had anything to say about it, Ed didn’t get to hear it. The world went black, and after a few seconds, he was back in the cave. Despite having woken up from sleep, he didn’t feel rested at all. If anything, he felt worse than ever. Ed got the feeling he wasn’t going to get much rest any time soon.

“Man,” he said to the cave, “fuck this.”

* * *

When Alphonse returned to the morgue, he gave Roy a strange look.

“Colonel? Are you alright?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

He was not. He had done his best to try to rearrange Edward’s body before anyone got back, so as not to arouse suspicion. He shook his head, mutely answering the question. He looked out the window, noting how late it was getting. That didn’t really matter, though — he doubted he was getting to sleep any time soon. Al decided not to press further, for which Roy was deeply grateful. Hell, he didn’t even know what had just happened himself. All he knew was that there was a bruise forming under his jaw, and a bump on the back of his head.

The two didn’t talk to each other for the rest of the night, and Hawkeye came to drive both of them home. Alphonse was dropped off first, back at the dorms. Technically, he wasn’t allowed to be there anymore, but there was no way in hell Mustang was going to kick him out after what had happened. Alphonse had left the car quickly, and Roy thought he heard him starting to cry again before they drove off. 

The drive back to his house was looking like it would be just as quiet until Riza spoke up.

“Sir.” Roy jolted in his seat. He had been slouching, looking at nothing in particular. “What is it?” He asked.

“…I was wondering if you’d like to take tomorrow off,” she said, turning her eyes back to the road. “You don’t have any meetings tomorrow, and I can handle your paperwork.”

Technically, it was illegal for Hawkeye to forge his signature, but in cases where the Colonel was predisposed, he was more than happy when she decided to fill in. Of course, she would only agree to such an arrangement in very special cases. If she was offering this to him, the message was clear: Roy wasn’t going to work tomorrow, whether he liked it or not. The “choice” was anything but.

“Sure,” he mumbled. The night air was cool, with a certain damp quality to it. It seemed like it was going to rain tomorrow. His nemesis. Just great.

Hawkeye led him to his door, but left him alone in his house. Roy flicked on the light, but immediately regretted it, cringing at how bright it seemed. He’d rather shuffle blindly upstairs than be subjected to it for another second.

He crawled into bed, not even bothering to take his clothes off. He stared at the ceiling for hours. Sleep never even came close to him. Though he was still in his bed, his mind was racing a mile a minute.

Had he dreamed that? The aching of his jaw told him that he hadn’t been, but couldn’t he have hallucinated and simply invented an explanation for how he got that injury? It was far-fetched, but not as far-fetched as having a very dead body wake up and sock you in the jaw. Edward had specifically told him not to let them do anything with his body. He hadn’t planned on it, of course, but having a dead man give you an order certainly gave his decision more weight.

Roy squeezed his eyes shut. No, this was ridiculous. People don’t just come back from the dead. But if what he had seen was just a hallucination, then why hadn’t he had any more? Aside from that brief burst of insanity, nothing else had struck him as reality-defying that day. Well, if you didn’t count the strange conditions of Edward’s body, that is. It seemed as though, even in death, Fullmetal was doing his best to torment him.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a phone ringing from downstairs. Who in the name of God would be calling him at — he glanced over at his grandfather clock, illuminated by pale moonlight — four in the morning? He dragged himself out of bed, going over his options. It could be Alphonse, or Riza, or another member of the team. Perhaps it was the brass, waiting to give him some order he wasn’t emotionally equipped to carry out. He wasn’t sure which option seemed more unappealing.

“Hello?” Roy twirled the phone cord. The exhaustion was really starting to get to him, and he could feel the tug of sleep at his eyes.

“Colonel Mustang?” It was a familiar woman’s voice. “This is Mirriam. From the morgue?”

“Yes, I remember. Why are you calling me at four in the morning?”

“I’m sorry, Colonel Mustang, but I wouldn’t be calling you if this wasn’t an important matter. I have the graveyard shift, and I just got done checking Mr. Elric’s body.”

Roy felt a single bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. “And?”

“His temperature… It was higher than it was the last time we checked. I checked the other bodies in the morgue, to make sure it wasn’t a failure of the temperature regulation system, and everything checked out. It’s as if he briefly came back to life, then died again.”

A cold chill went down his spine. “I see. And you’re certain about this.”

“Very certain. In fact, I checked, and the evidence suggests that he would have ‘woken up’, so to speak, around the time when you were in the room with him.”

Roy clutched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Forget a long day. This was going to be a long week.

“Do you remember seeing anything strange while you were there?”

He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

“As a matter of fact…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORE CORNER: DAGGERFALL  
> This chapter doesn't feature much lore to discuss, so instead, I'll talk a bit about Daggerfall itself. Daggerfall is the second entry in the Elder Scrolls series, released in 1996. It's primary claim to fame is the size of its world, being larger than any non-randomly generated video game map, and it's roughly the size of Great Britain. Though Daggerfall was a buggy, overambitious mess, it was an improvement over its predecessor, Arena, in almost every way. Arena had no lore to speak of, being based off a homebrew Dungeons and Dragon session, but Daggerfall brought the world to life, establishing much of the lore and concepts that would appear in later entries.


	3. Dark Twisted Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed goes dungeon-crawling. Roy sleeps in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains somewhat graphic depictions and discussions of violence and the death, as well as vomiting. It also contains swearing. You have been warned.
> 
> Now featuring Lore Corner! See the chapter four author's notes for more details.

The good news was that the cave had an exit. The bad news is that the exit was littered with things that wanted to kill him. This place — what looked like a dungeon — apparently had an exit to the sea, which he was able to use as an entrance. The place was littered with rats the size of house cats, bloated on the flesh of God-knows-what, blood staining their filthy claws and teeth. He liked to think he was an animal person, but these things clearly did not return his affection. There was no hesitation as Ed blasted them to smithereens. There were more fantastical pests as well: there was an imp who had given Ed a nasty wound on his left shoulder with its razor-sharp claws, and he thought he saw a bear sleeping at the far end of a winding corridor. Needless to say, he decided not to go in that direction.

There had been people in the dungeon, as well, and unfortunately they were only a few steps up from the feral rats. Ed had walked through a door, and a pair of them had instantly turned to stare him dead in the eyes. They seemed possessed by a manic energy, ready to kill him on sight. As he brought up his hands to create a fireball, he hesitated; there was no way he could kill another human being like this. He had tried retreating, defending himself with his dagger. Surprisingly, the blade more than held its own against the decisive swings of a long sword as they clashed together. He even saw a few flakes of iron chip off his attacker’s sword, which only further enraged her. Ed realized he was being backed into a corner, and at this rate, someone was going to end up dead. His mind scrambled for options, until he remembered something he had read in the spellbook.

With a deft movement of fingers guided by muscle memory, a dazzling burst of light appeared before him. The flash didn’t vanish, however, and instead hung in thin air, like a miniature sun. Strangely, his eyes didn’t seem hurt by its brightness, but his attacker was not so lucky. She dropped to the floor, clawing at her eyes, snarling words Edward couldn’t understand. He would almost feel bad for her, if she hadn’t been trying to kill him. Her partner quickly rounded the corner at the commotion, but the light blinded him as well, and he stumbled back. Seizing the opportunity, Ed bolted down the corridor, not giving them time to see where he had run off to.

He ran into what looked like a gigantic throne room. It must have been grand at one point, with its towering columns and flowing silk banners, but time had allowed forces both natural and unnatural to take their toll on its grandeur. Above the throne, which sat at the top of a wide stairway, Ed could see a small alcove, which looked like it had a passage leading upwards. “Up” seemed like a good direction to go, so he set his sights on the platform the throne rested on.

That was about the time the skeleton made itself known.

Skeletons were not subtle creatures, a fact which Edward would become very, very familiar with, so it was a wonder he had missed it. It wasn’t just the constant grinding of their bones and rusted metal equipment. It wasn’t just how they rushed at you in a mad dash. It was the sound.

The creature opened its jaw, and let loose an unholy wail. It cut through Ed like ice water, freezing him in place. He turned his head and saw the thing beginning to chase him, the pinpricks of light that passed for its eyes trained directly on him. In a burst of speed, Ed ran toward the wall, his shaking hands fumbling and feeling for any sort of grip. No luck. The bricks extruded a bit, and he might be able to climb the banners, but there was no guarantee that either would remain stable enough to support his climb. Even if they were, Ed had little experience in scaling walls like this, and the trembling of his hands wasn’t doing him any favors. His eyes looked desperately around either side of him, where he caught sight of a lever. 

The fact that the throne was on a raised platform suddenly seemed much more significant. Without thinking, he jumped upon the platform and threw the lever. Then he looked back at the skeleton, who was far too close for comfort. With a shrieking click and groan, the platform shifted under his feet, and began to rise. Ed felt a nervous sigh of relief leave his throat.

He quickly retracted it when the platform shuddered and stopped, only having gotten a few feet off the ground. The skeleton ran straight into it, cracking chips of its skull off that landed on the floor. If this bothered the undead creature, it didn’t show, as it merely continued to try running into the stone slab. When this strategy produced the same results, it suddenly lifted its hands, and Ed swore his heart stopped when he realized that it was trying to climb on.

Turning back to the alcove, it was clear that it was still too high to climb up to. Pulling the lever again was probably just going to result in the platform going down, which was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. At this rate, he was probably going to have to kill the skeleton. With a movement of his hands, fire burst forth and consumed the abomination, ending its unlife.

...Or so Ed had hoped. Instead, this seemed to mildly annoy it. It’s bones were beginning to char and blacken from the fire, but it still moved regardless. He gulped. Great. He had turned it into a walking fire hazard. Fucking peachy.

He thought back to the spellbook. Had there been anything he was missing? 

The answer smacked him in the face. Levitate. Obviously. It was such a perfectly clean solution that he felt like an idiot for having overlooked it. He smirked, his confidence coming back to him.

“Sorry, but you’ll just have to play with the rats,” he said, letting his body dictate the casting of the spell. He felt the vague pull of his fingers against an invisible force, and…

… Nothing. Ed frowned, repeating the process. Nothing happened, and he was still on the platform, still an inch away from the fiery skeleton trying to kill him. As far as he could tell, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Why wasn’t it working?

A peculiar feeling tugged at him, one he had never felt before. It was like being thirsty for something that wasn’t water. Once more he tried the spell, though he knew the outcome, but this time focused on the sensation of casting. When he reached the end, he could feel the difference. When it worked, it felt like grasping a pile of mud in your hands, forming it into something new, and letting it loose on reality. But now, Ed was drained — of what, he didn’t know, but he definitely was — and the mud was more like dust. It refused to remain in his fingers, let alone be molded, and it blew away, leaving him just a regular person making funny hand gestures. He could feel that energy trickling back on its own, but it was painfully, terribly slow. By the time he had gathered enough, he’d be a skeleton himself. He was going to have to deal with this the old-fashioned way.

Ed looked around the platform. The throne was firmly bolted to the ground, so he wasn’t going to be able to knock it over on the unholy abomination. There was a slim chance he could climb up on the throne and jump up to the alcove, but that would likely end in him breaking his neck. Fighting the creature directly wasn’t an option anymore, unless he was eager to give himself third degree burns. Maybe he could kick it’s head off, but there wasn’t even a guarantee that would hurt it. It might just piss it off even more.

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration hit. With a swing of his leg, Edward kicked the skeleton on its back, hissing as the flames licked his feet, pushing it inwards so that it fell directly under the platform. Before the unnatural abomination had time to react, he hit the lever again, and with a rattling groan it began its descent, much faster than it had risen. The fleshless creature didn’t have time to claw its way out before it was crushed against the floor, creating a cacophonous sound of shattering bones that made Ed want to empty the contents of his stomach. Impossibly, the thing wailed for a few seconds afterwards, but it soon ceased, and Ed was alone.

He gave the lever one last flick, hoping it might have magically fixed itself. It started screeching again, but there was a different sounding grinding noise, and it only managed to get about a foot off the floor. The mechanical stress must have been too much for what little remained of the mechanism, and age had finally caught up to it. For now, Ed would have to settle for being stuck on the raised platform. This was by no means a safe position, but it was certainly safer than being off of it, where he was easy pickings for whatever monsters lurked in this God-forsaken place. He huddled behind the throne, and for the first time in his life, Ed wished he was a bit smaller.

Even though the creature had died, the effect it had on Ed was far from gone. He still remembered its face, clear as crystal, illuminated by the burning of the stray strings of flesh that it retained. It brought forth memories he never wanted to think about again: that abomination he had made trying to bring back his mother, a distortion of life, its face locked in a silent scream that froze him in place. 

His stomach lurched upwards. He quickly moved his head to the side and threw up, bile splattering the filth-ridden floors. Shivering, he tried to regain his composure with steady, deep breaths, but the best he could manage was a few choking, hiccupy gasps that felt like a shotgun being loaded. He curled into himself even further, wrapping his legs in his arms.

He refused to let himself sleep, but he doubted his mind would let him, anyway. If it wasn’t his cuts and burns screaming for attention, it was the stares of the rats, the bandits, and the skeletons, still looking at him murderously, long after they were gone. Ed shivered and squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to let any of his tears fall.

* * *

When Mustang opened his eyes, he realized it was three in the afternoon. Despite his bones aching for more sleep, he had absolutely no interest in returning to his dreams. They had been bad enough when they were flashbacks to Ishval, the eternal bonfire of a thousand screaming children; now that Edward had started making cameos, they were nearly unbearable. He stretched his arms, hearing his joints pop and shift in a way that made him feel like he was thirty years older than he really was. He sat up in bed, and heard the gentle pattering of rain on his window. The sky outside was gray, seeming as hard as steel and softer than feathers at the same time, and a thin layer of droplets covered every surface, like sweat on a sick man.

Good. If he had to be miserable, the rest of the world might as well be, too.

Dragging himself from his sweat-soaked sheets, he started getting himself ready, and was halfway through putting on his uniform when he remembered he had been forced to take work off that day. Even if he hadn’t, there was no way he was going to be able to show up so late and get anything done. He took off the uniform, but continued to clean himself up. He needed to make sure he kept up his habits, and looking presentable helped him feel like slightly less of a walking pile of trash.

As he trudged downstairs, he eyed his phone, which caused memories of last night’s conversation to go racing through his mind. He wasn’t sure what had prompted him to be so honest with the woman, whether it was exhaustion, shock, grief, or some combination of the three. Thankfully, it hadn’t resulted in any calls to the loony bin. At least, none that Roy knew of. Yet. Mirriam seemed to believe him, likely due to having evidence, and said she would do her best to make sure the body was kept intact. Unfortunately, she could only be there for about half the day, so there was nothing she could do during the daytime hours. Thankfully, the current plan by the morgue was to simply observe the body for the foreseeable future, but if plans changed, things might get difficult.

Halfway through making a sorry-looking breakfast, the phone rang. Mustang half-expected it to be Mirriam, but he was greeted by Hawkeye when he picked it up.

“I hope you’re doing better, sir,” she began softly.

Roy snorted at this statement, and he could practically hear Riza frowning on the other side of the line. 

“Sorry, Lieutenant. Is there some reason why you’re calling me on my ‘day off’?” He emphasized the last two words with air quotes. Riza couldn’t see them, but he knew she got the message.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. It’s about the funeral.”

Roy’s vision swam, and his ears rang. The word bounced around in his skull. Funeral. Funeral.

Shit.

“Sir?”

He tried to pull himself back to reality.

“Sorry, Hawkeye. What about his funeral?”

“Well, we discussed the matter with Alphonse, who further discussed it with Winry.” Roy was glad he hadn’t been there for that particular conversation. “They’ve decided they want to bring him to Resembool, to bury him near his home.”

Roy could feel his heart pounding in his chest. East City had a morgue, being a large urban center and a base of military operations, but he seriously doubted such a facility existed in a small town out in the countryside. Even more concerning, though, was the prospect of a burial. If he somehow didn’t suffocate to death down there, the worms and other animals would certainly do him in. Any sort of funeral would be a true death. He felt his mouth go dry.

“I see,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady, “and when do they want to have this funeral?”

“As soon as possible, preferably within the month. I checked with the morgue, but for some reason, we’re receiving a lot of pushback.”

Roy made a noise of acknowledgement. His goal was clear: he had to delay this funeral in any way he could. Thankfully, it seemed the morgue was on his side for this, but he knew that the combined force of Alphonse, the Rockbells, and his team wouldn’t be held back by them for long. He needed to think, and fast. He couldn’t tell the whole truth, but he could at least tell them part of it.

“Unfortunately, Fullmetal is going to remain in the morgue for the foreseeable future.” 

“What?” Hawkeye’s voice had gained an edge to it that made Roy glad he was several miles away.

“It was something about his body exhibiting novel properties,” he continued, paraphrasing what Mirriam had told him, “and they want to observe the natural process of—”

“With all due respect, sir, don’t you think his family should take priority?”

Roy winced. Hawkeye sounded genuinely surprised at him, but even worse, disappointed. As much as he could understand her feelings on the situation, he couldn’t let them accidentally kill Edward again. He took a deep breath.

“Even so, the military is going to want to try to take precedence with his funeral. You’re going to have to go through them first before you can do anything.”

“We’ve already begun that process, sir.” Her tone of voice made it clear that it wasn’t a pleasant or easy one, for which Mustang was secretly relieved. “It’ll take about a week to get everything cleared up.”

A week. More time than he expected, but less than he hoped. He had about a week to figure something out. How hard could it be?

“Then we can talk about this once that’s done. Goodbye, Hawkeye.”

“Wait!” The sound of her voice echoed from the receiver right before it hit the phone. He wordlessly put it back to his ear, and after Hawkeye realized she hadn’t been hung up on, she continued.

“Sir, I don’t know if this is out of grief, or some mistaken belief that you can save him, but you have to move on.” There was a click, then silence.

Before Roy could even process the statement, a pungent, burning smell attacked his nose. He looked over to find his eggs were burnt.

“Damn it,” he muttered, throwing them into the trash. If he couldn’t even deal with eggs, how was he going to deal with a dead body?

First things first, he needed to call Mirriam. He didn’t know how much she could help, but he figured she needed to know. He looked at the small note at the base of his phone, where he had written the contact information relayed to him last night. He tried her home phone, and she picked up in one ring.

“Colonel Mustang?” She sounded like she had gotten about as much sleep as he had. Roy couldn’t imagine the situation was doing her any more favors than it had him. “Is something the matter?”

“Yes, actually. Things might get a bit complicated…”

* * *

Ed wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It could have been five minutes or five hours, for all he could tell. Whatever the case, the strange emptiness that had stricken him earlier had been abated somewhat. It seemed that magic, like everything, had a cost. He was lucky that learning that lesson hadn’t cost him his life.

He probably needed to rest more, but the strange sounds that echoed from out-of-sight corridors and rooms were becoming increasingly unnerving, and Ed felt exposed on all sides. He needed to get out of this place, or it was going to become his tomb. Standing up unsteadily, he gave another attempt at levitation.

The moment he released the energy from his hands, a light, bubbly feeling filled his stomach. He moved a foot forward, and could immediately tell that his gravity had decided to take a break. Even his clothes were affected: His robe seemed to flow around him like he was underwater. With a light kick off the ground, he was floating through the air. He braced himself against the ceiling, and lightly pushed himself into the alcove. As he had thought, there was a passage leading upwards. Using a series of well-placed kicks, he was literally flying through the corridors, desperate to find the exit. He saw a few more rats on the way up, but he was able to avoid them by simply drifting closer to the ceiling. 

As Ed passed by another room, he heard the loud but muffled sound of a snowstorm, and his heart leapt into his throat. Following the sound of freedom, he halted his momentum by hooking his hand on the side of the door frame and pulled himself inwards. Daylight streamed from outside an archway at the far side of the room, brightly gleaming off the snow that had fallen inside.

He propelled himself toward the exit as fast as possible, and had almost reached it when a sudden, burning pain seared his back, and the nauseating sensation of claws tearing through flesh assaulted his nerves. Ed didn’t dare look back, but he recognized those chittering, high-pitched squeals. It was a damn imp. He must have missed it in his haste. He didn’t have any time to fight it, so he gritted his teeth through the pain, and launched himself into the outdoors.

The first sensation that greeted him was the cold. God, was it cold. Ed was glad he had managed to dry off, because the freezing temperatures might have killed him if he were still soaked. He turned around, trying to see if the imp was still following him, but thankfully nothing had emerged from the dungeon. He was free.

Edward shivered violently, gently rubbing himself for warmth. He was so distracted by his escape and the weather that he hadn’t even noticed that the light feeling in his stomach had been rapidly fading, the bubbles popping one-by-one. He landed unceremoniously on his back, which caused the pain in his back to flare up a second time. He launched into a stream of curses and screams that were drowned by the wind.

He forced himself to stand up, pushing through the protests of his back. If he let the snow get him wet, he would likely die, and his prospects of survival weren’t looking so hot to begin with. There was a trickling feeling running below his shoulders, sticky and warm, and Ed seriously doubted that it was water.The injuries and blood loss were starting to catch up with him, and if he passed out now, he was dead for sure.

He remembered another spell he had read: “Heal.” He had no idea what it was meant to heal, exactly, but it was just about the only option he had left. It was scary, really, how quickly he had gotten used to the idea of magic, and even scarier how it had become his primary method of dealing with situations, but he supposed blood loss and near-death experiences weren’t conducive to rational thinking.

With another movement of his hands, he felt a warmth spread across him. The pain of the blizzard slicing at his skin became muted until it vanished entirely. Experimentally, Ed looked at the shoulder where he had been gouged by the first imp. Before his eyes, he could see flesh mending itself, the kneading of newly-created scar tissue into something smooth, but just as strong as it had ever been. From the sensation on his back, he felt the same was true of his second injury.

Ed had nothing to say, not even a witty comment. He was simply in awe. Awe or not, though, if he didn’t find somewhere a little warmer soon, all he would’ve accomplished was making himself into a more presentable corpse. His fingers fumbling, he unhooked the backpack that had been resting against his shoulders (and that had thankfully been missed by the imp’s attack from earlier) and tried to leaf through it, looking for a map. Thankfully, he managed to pull out a slip of paper that unfolded to show a giant representation of what Ed assumed was the region he was currently in. He grinned in relief, but it quickly melted into a frown as another realization hit him.

“I don’t…” His eyes scanned over the paper. “I don’t know where I am.”

Well, shit. Looks like he was going to have to find his salvation the old fashioned way. He looked around him, hoping to see any roads or passerby, but all he could see was an endless expanse of trees and snow. His eyes wandered back to the dungeon, following the line of a cliff that overlooked the coast.

Well, following the coast seemed as good an option as any. Heading back the way he came (while still giving a wide berth to the dungeon), he began to walk. He tried to avoid looking over the side, but curiosity quickly got the best of him.

It was a sheer drop. Rocks, slick with ice, jutted from the steely waters like rows of uneven teeth in the jaws of a great beast. Planks of soaking wood had been caught between them, like they had been chewed to bits. His mouth dried when he realized he was looking at the ruins of the ship he had just barely escaped with his life from last night, washed to shore. That could have been him down there, his body tangled and interlocked with the craggy outcroppings, his skin slick and slimy from the water, eyes pecked away by gulls. He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to look down any more. If he spent too much time thinking about his hypothetical death, he was going to catch a case of real death sooner rather than later.

He walked for a few more hours, having to force himself to not look back at the sea. He stared out at the forest, hoping to see the outline of a city, or really anything that wasn’t a tree. He thought he saw a few animals poke their heads from the bushes to stare at him, but none had dared to approach. As the sun began to sink lower towards the horizon, his heart began to beat faster.

Finally, he saw it. From behind the forest, a twinkling light. Then two, then five, and suddenly there was a town emerging from the wilderness. Despite how much his feet were screaming at him, he broke out into a sprint, ignoring the startled gazes of various passerby as he ran into town, shouting incoherently. Eventually, exhaustion took its toll, and he passed out in the middle of the street, a joyous grin spread across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who has read this fic, I can't begin to express how thankful I am. When I started this, I thought I would be lucky if this fic got one hit. Now it has over one-hundred. Even for those who didn't end up liking it, the fact that you gave me that chance anyway warms my heart. I've always wanted to write out-there crossovers, but was scared to post any for the longest time, because I thought there would be no interest. So thank you all, for proving I was wrong.  
> I've decided that this fic will be updated every Monday and Thursday. I currently have 51k words written, so I should have more than enough material to keep updating this for a while, even if I make zero writing progress for the next few weeks. Hopefully, though, I'll continue to keep up a good pace.
> 
> LORE CORNER: MAGIC(KA)  
> In the Elder Scrolls, casting spells uses a resource known as "magicka", which slowly refills over time. How much magicka a person has depends primarily on their intelligence. While magicka consumption is typically tied to how powerful the spell is, it's also affected by the person's skill in the relevant school of magic, of which there are six in Daggerfall: Destruction, Alteration, Mysticism, Thaumaturgy, Illusion, and Restoration.  
> Destruction and Restoration are fairly self-explanatory: Destruction concerns damaging and weakening things, and thus covers elemental spells like Fireball, while Restoration focuses on mending and fortification effects like Heal. Alteration involves changing the properties of objects while still working within natural laws, which is seen in spells like Water Breathing. Thaumaturgy is often grouped in with Alteration, and indeed they were combined into a single school starting with Morrowind. What differentiates the two is that Thaumaturgy is focused on changing the natural laws themselves instead of altering properties. This is best demonstrated in spells like Levitate, which temporarily changes how gravity affects the caster. Illusion concerns changing the perception of either the caster or target, such as the Light effect. Mysticism is the least understood of the schools, as it involves the raw manipulation of magic itself. This means its effects are the strangest and least related, such as the Teleport spell.


	4. False Vacuum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed takes a well-earned break. Roy needs one. A plan is devised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly late update! I would have posted it earlier this morning, but life happened. This chapter is fairly slow, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!
> 
> Starting with this chapter, I'll start using the end chapter notes to touch on certain aspects of lore, world, or game mechanics that aren't required to understand or enjoy the story, but might enrich your appreciation of it. I might go back and add them to earlier chapters as well.

He stirred from his sleep, feeling a great stiffness in all parts of his body. It was still chilly, but it was a far cry from the primal blizzard he had been stuck in. The feeling of metal on his back told him exactly where he was, though, and the automail biting into his shoulder confirmed it. Hesitating, he opened his eyes once more.

Though he half-expected to see the Colonel standing over him again, the man was nowhere to be found. Ed didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. He could, however, hear the sound of a pen, etching into paper. Someone was in the room with him. He heard an absentminded humming noise, which sounded like an older woman’s voice.

He was going to get up, but a more rational part of his brain told him not to move. After all, what was going to happen if this woman saw a dead body get up and start asking questions? She might cut him open, trying to figure out how he had come back to life, or worse. On the other hand, while it was one thing to pretend to be sleeping, it was another thing entirely to pretend to be dead. If he was going to be caught, he might as well do it in a way that got him some answers. Steeling himself, he sat up, scanning the room.

The woman was facing away from him, and sure enough, had a clipboard in her hand. Her hair was draped loosely over her shoulders, and from the considerable amount of tangling and frizz, it seemed she had been quite busy lately. His mind flashed back to his encounter with the Colonel. Maybe the man had told somebody else about what had happened, and this lady was aware that his dead body wasn’t so dead after all?

Ed had decided to wait for her to turn around, but she was taking an awfully long time with those notes, and he didn’t know how much time he had left before he would be pulled back into the other world. So, after careful deliberation, he cleared his throat.

He had heard the phrase “jumped a foot in the air” before, but had always considered it a fanciful exaggeration. His mind was changed when the woman shot upwards like a cat who had just been woken by a loud noise, stifling a scream as she did so. She quickly turned around, eyes wide, clutching the side of a table.

“Oh,” she began in a strangled tone of voice that was doing its level best to sound professional, “you’re awake.”

Ed frowned. “You don’t sound very concerned about it.”

The woman balanced herself and looked him dead in the eyes, regaining her composure. “Neither do you.”

He let a smirk flash across his face. “Point taken.”

The woman smoothed her hair a bit, assuming a neutral expression. “In any case, I very much _am_ concerned about the fact that you woke up. I have a lot of questions for you, Mr. Elric, but I’m unsure how many of them you can answer.”

Edward’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?”

She looked like she was trying not to roll her eyes. “Generally, people are aware of the names of the bodies they are looking after.”

He blinked, feeling a bit embarrassed by having to be told such an obvious fact. “Oh.”

“In any case, could you answer some questions for me? If what Colonel Mustang told me is true, you might not have much time before you die again.”

Ed winced at the phrase “die again,” but he knew the woman had a point. They had even less of an idea of what was going on than he did, and the least he could do was give some answers. It might even save his life. Or unlife. Whatever his current state of existence could even be described as.

“Yeah, sure.” Did his voice always sound this weak? “Could I ask you a few questions first, though?”

“Certainly, Mr. Elric. It’s not everyday you get to hold a conversation with a corpse.”

“First of all,” he said sharply, raising a finger with his flesh hand, “I am _not_ a corpse. I’m pretty alive, last time I checked. I’m just…” His thought trailed off, and he realized that he had no good answer. “I’m just going through a bit of a rough time right now.”

“I apologize, Mr. Elric. What should I refer to you as, then?” The woman crossed her arms, waiting expectantly for an answer. Ed reeled back a bit, his mind scrambling to think of a response.

“Uh…” he replied, jaw hanging open. “How about ‘existentially challenged’?”

Did she snort? She hid her mouth behind her hand for a second, then returned to her previous sense of composure, as if nothing had happened.

“If that’s what you want. So, how is it being ‘existentially challenged,’ as you put it?”

“Hey, I thought I was asking the questions!” Ed jabbed a thumb towards himself for emphasis. “If you’re going to be interrogating me, you could at least tell me your name.

“I apologize, that was rude of me. I’m Mirriam Jensen. You may call me whatever you’d like.”

Ed shifted his legs, trying to get into a more comfortable position. “Alright, fine then, Mirriam. How long have I been in here?”

Mirriam checked her clipboard. “About two days.”

Two days seemed right. It seemed like time flowed the same between the two worlds, at least. That was one less thing he had to worry about. The last thing he wanted was to wake up and find out ten years had flown by.

“Okay, then. What are you planning to do with my body?”

“With all due respect, Mr. Elric, you’re going to have to be more specific. There’s actually a bit of a conflict regarding what should be done with you, and there are a few different parties involved.” She twirled her pen, and the corners of her mouth threatened to turn downwards. He could see the tension in her movements, even from halfway across the room.

Ed threw up his hands in the air. “I don’t even know all the people that are involved! Could you just describe what’s going on, please?!”

Mirriam blinked in surprise at the outburst, but didn’t comment on it. She looked back at her notes, tapping them with the blunt side of the pen.

“Currently, the morgue wants to keep your body here indefinitely, for observation. It’s displaying characteristics that are extremely unusual for a dead body, almost as if you weren’t actually dead. Except, of course, for the fact that you are.” 

She shot a knowing look in his direction. Ed snorted, but remained silent, allowing her to continue.

“However, your brother and another family, the Rockbells, want your body to be taken back to Resembool — your hometown, I assume — where you can be buried instead.”

Ed wasn’t sure how to describe his reaction to the news. Remembering his brother made his heart ache, and his desire to be with Al again tugged at his heartstrings violently. When he thought about how much he was making the only family he had left suffer, all because he was an idiot who didn’t know when to quit, he wanted to sink into the earth, never to be seen again.

On the other hand, he couldn’t let them bury him. If they did, he really was going to die, and though he would have sacrificed anything for Alphonse, Ed knew that if his brother found out he had accidentally killed him, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself . He grit his teeth, grimacing, and held back his tears, turning his gaze to the floor.

“They can’t.”

“We’re certainly in agreement that you shouldn’t be buried,” Mirriam replied, writing something down. There was something a bit distant in her voice, but Ed couldn’t place what it was. 

She continued. “Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, for your family, the military has precedence when it comes to handling your funeral. They can circumvent this by going through the proper channels, but it’s going to take them about a week.”

A week. That took a bit of the immediate panic off his mind. Still, though, given the pace things were going, he didn’t have the slightest clue about what his issue actually was, let alone how he would go about finding or even enacting a solution. He needed to find a way to delay the funeral, or stop it entirely, and given that he was supposed to be dead, there wasn’t much he could do by himself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Ed asked, waiting expectantly for an answer.

“What?” Mirriam was caught off-guard. “Well, you don’t exactly have much autonomy under the law right now. Although…” She put a hand under her chin and closed her eyes, and after a few moments, she opened them again. “Tell me, Mr. Elric, do you have a will?”

“A will?” Wracking his brain, he came up empty. In hindsight, it had been rather stupid of him to not even consider what would happen if he died, instead insisting that he would simply avoid that scenario. “I don’t think so.”

For the first time, Mirriam smiled. On the surface, it seemed innocent, but there was an almost mischievous edge to her voice when she spoke again.

“You see, we’ve been trying to find your will, and have been coming up empty. It’s only been a few days, however, so there’s plenty of places we could still find it.”

His eyes widened. “You want me to write a will?”

“Yes, Mr. Elric. And of course, you have to be the one to write it. If it’s not in your handwriting, I doubt your family will believe it’s authentic.”

Edward considered the option, turning it over in his mind.

“Well, I suppose I can write something… but what would I even put? ‘If it just so happens that the morgue wants to keep my body, let them’? Even if that’s in my handwriting, that doesn’t sound very believable.”

“Not in those exact words. Would your family believe if you said something along the lines of, ‘I willingly give up my body for scientific research, should it be eligible’?”

While Ed himself might not be completely comfortable with the thought of giving up his body after death, the idea certainly wasn’t out of line with his respect for scientific progress. He had never broached the topic of what he wanted done with his body after he died, so Al and Winry would have no reason to believe he was lying. He felt a twinge in his heart when he thought about lying to them, but considering his life was on the line, he would just have to deal with it.

“…I could write that into a will,” he stated after some time, “but I’m going to have to think of other things to put in there. It can’t just be—”

His thought was cut off by the violent lurching of his long-since empty stomach. He curled in on himself, suppressing a pathetic whimper that threatened to escape from his lips. There was that feeling again: tenterhooks trying to drag him away from his own mind.

“Mr. Elric?” Mirriam called, her voice beginning to sound more distant.

“Shit,” Ed mumbled, hoping he could be heard. “I can’t—” He hissed as a shock of pain raced through his veins. “I can’t stay here much longer.”

Suddenly, the woman was much closer, standing right in front of him. In one movement, she embraced him, leading his body into a warm hug.

“Edward.” Her voice was gentle, and it’s firm tone dulled the pain, even if only by a little bit. “No matter what, I will do my best to protect you.”

He made a guttural sound, but didn’t have enough presence of mind to tell whether it came out. His eyes closed once more, and he was falling, falling, falling through an inky black void.

* * *

He awoke, yet again, to the warmth of a fire. Edward was really getting tired of waking up in unfamiliar places. There was a soft and woolly blanket under him, which rested on top of a hard wooden floor. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but compared to a cave, a morgue, and the middle of the street, it felt like treatment fit for a king.

He tried to get up, and felt a flare of soreness in his legs. He winced. Apparently, healing magic didn’t do a whole lot for being achey. Ed let a soft groan escape his lips as he began to knead his muscles, trying to massage them as best he could. Yet another reason to be thankful for Izumi’s training, he thought, as he pressed down in a few particular spots and felt a surge of relief. It was still odd to feel sensations in his left leg — real feelings, not just the vague simulations provided by automail.

There was a pattering sound of footsteps coming from nearby. He raised his head, trying to find the source of the noise, but all he could glean was that it came from downstairs. If the triangular shape of the room and the downwards-leading ladder situated at the far end of the floor was anything to go by, he had been placed in some type of attic. It was a wonder he had been carried all the way up there, and even more of a wonder he hadn’t woken up during it. He must have been completely drained.

The footsteps grew louder, and eventually a small head peeked out from the ladder. The kid had a rich head of bushy brown hair, which fell across their face in unevenly sized locks. Their pale blue eyes widened when they realized Ed was looking straight at them, and they quickly ducked back below, skittering out of sight once more.

“Maw! Paw!” Ed winced, covering his ears. Damn, he might not be able to see them, but the kid sure knew how to make themselves heard. “He’s ‘wake! He’s ‘wake!”

Thankfully, two far more muted voices (probably “Maw” and “Paw”) came in to quiet the kid. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but their tone was loving. After a few more exchanges between the family, he heard another set of footsteps, this time much heavier and deliberate. Ed gulped. He really hoped he wasn’t going to have to fight anybody, since he doubted he could even keep himself upright, let alone move around quickly.

Thankfully, once he saw the large man climb into the attic, his fears of facing hostility seemed to melt into the warmth of the fire. The man was barrel-chested, but his face was rosy, and his eyes were crinkled with merriment. His hair was the same deep shade of brown as the child, but thinner, and beginning to bald near the top of his head. His eyebrows were bushy, which made it hard to see his eyes, but his beaming smile was almost painfully honest.

“Well, stranger, you’ll have to forgive me for taking you off the street,” he said in a booming, cheery voice, “seein’ as you looked so happy and all, but I didn’t want you to freeze to death.”

Ed exhaled sharply through his nose, causing the faintest traces of mist to swirl around his face, and he grinned. “I wasn’t happy about sleeping on the street, I’ll tell you that much,” he replied, with a soft sigh of relief.

The man laughed, his voice rumbling from deep within his belly. Its rich tones melted the last traces of tension in the air.

“I’ll take that as a ‘thanks’. Oh, and don’t worry about payin’ me. I just helped a stranger in need, that’s all. You don’t look like you’re from around here, stranger. What’s your name?”

He almost replied “Edward” out of instinct, but stopped himself when he remembered the letter resting in his satchel. Technically, his name was Edwyval, and although it was unnatural referring to himself by another person’s name, he was going to have to assume another identity if he wanted to fit in around here, wherever “here” was.

“Edwyval,” he said, feeling how foreign the name felt on his tongue, “but to tell you the truth, I don’t remember much beyond that.”

“You’ve lost your memory?” The man’s eyes widened. “That’s quite troublesome. Are you sure you don’t remember anything else?”

He could have repeated what he read in his letter from the Emperor, but he caught himself when he remembered that his mission was supposed to be a secret. Thinking quickly, he began to devise the best half-truth he could.

“Well, I…” It was mercifully easy to pretend he was trying to recall memories when he was really just thinking of a good lie. “I think I was in a shipwreck. I wound up in this dungeon, and I only just managed to escape from it. Other than that, I really have no clue.” 

He threw his hands up, emphasizing his helplessness

There was a low, contemplative hum from the other man. “That sounds very serious indeed. I do remember there was a fierce storm a night back, near the ruins of Privateer’s Hold.”

It didn’t take a genius to realize he was talking about the hellhole Ed had escaped from.

“If you say you made it outta that place alive, I’m impressed. Not many folk would be up to the task.” He paused, looking Ed over with a thoughtful expression. “Now that I’m lookin’, you do sorta seem like a mage.”

Ed blinked. “A what?”

“Someone who can use magic,” he patiently explained. “If you’re a mage, then you might be a member of the Guild. I could take you there, if you wanted.”

Ed frowned, shaking his head. “The Guild? What are you talking about?”

“You don’t even know that much? The Mages Guild. They’re a big organization for mages, of course. They fund research and make sure the members don’t try any funny business. You’re probably a member, and if you aren’t, I’m sure they’d accept you. They’ll probably have a place for you to stay, which I’m sure would be a sight more comfortable than my attic. If it ain’t, though, you’re welcome to stay here a while longer.”

Ed smiled. After the hell that had been the past two days, it was relieving to feel like he wasn’t an inch away from death at every corner.

“I appreciate that. A lot,” he replied, relaxing his shoulders and letting his legs stretch a bit more across the blanket. A small frown briefly flickered across his face as he came to a realization.

“Hey, I don’t think you ever gave me your name,” he said, looking at the man. His eyes widened for a moment.

“Where are my manners? I’m Rodore. You saw my lovely little girl earlier. She’s Lysara. My wife is Ysolda.”

Ed thought those were all strange names, but he certainly wasn’t going to tell that to the man who had saved his life. There was also the fact that his name was supposed to be “Edwyval,” a far stupider name by any metric.

“What should I know before I head out?”

“Well, settle down, boy, you need some rest. I don’t want you to get hurt tryin’ to push yourself. I’d be happy to answer any questions you have, though.” He sat down, crossing his legs. It was clear Ed wasn’t going to get past him any time soon.

It was irritating being forced to stay put, but he supposed the man had a point. If he went about as recklessly as he normally did, there was a good chance he could get himself killed, and there was no way he was dying before he got his brother’s body back. He sighed, reclining into the blanket. Absentmindedly, he started to curl a tuft of wool with one of his fingers.

“So…” he began vaguely, unsure where to even begin, “what do they use for money around here?”

* * *

“He _spoke_ to you?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line and a busy shuffling of papers before Mirriam replied.

“Yes. It scared me half to death, if I’m being honest with you.”

Her speech was oddly informal, but Roy supposed there was nothing like a supernatural event to destroy the polite distance of bureaucracy.

“What did he say?” Roy brought the receiver a little closer to his ear.

“We didn’t get much time to speak before he… departed.” More paper shuffling. “We did manage to discuss a possible solution to our problem.”

Mustang didn’t even have to ask what problem she was referring to. “And that solution would be…?”

“His will. He said he hadn’t written one, but would be willing to forge one in order to keep his body at the morgue. If he donated his body to science, there isn’t much his family could do about it.”

Despite knowing this was the best course of action, it still felt cruel when Mirriam phrased it that way.

“One thing I’m worried about, though,” she continued, “is making them accept that the will isn’t a forgery.”

“I can help with that.” Being a member of the military, it was important to be able to recognize forged documents. Naturally, the same knowledge that was useful in spotting forgeries also helped when producing them. And, as both a state alchemist and high-ranking member of the military, he had access to tools that would make a forgery look even more convincing. 

“I can alchemically age the paper and ink so that it looks like it was written a few years ago, not a few days. It also shouldn’t be hard for me to make sure it gets found naturally.”

“That’s helpful, but will that be enough? They’ve been quite persistent.”

“I have no idea, but it’s better than nothing. Of course, we could always just introduce them to Ed personally.” 

He smirked at the absurdity of his suggestion. A bit of humor always went a long way in getting through trying times.

There was a silence on the end of the line. Not even the papers could be heard. Roy frowned, furrowing his brow.

“Mirriam?”

“Why not?”

Mustang blinked. “What?”

“Why not introduce them to Ed? That would clear up all of our issues decisively.”

There was a pause as Roy processed the statement. His mouth opened and closed several times as he slowly comprehended what had been suggested.

“We can’t.” His tone was decisive, but internally, he felt anything but sure.

“Again, why not? You’re going to have to give me a reason before I dismiss a perfectly sensible approach.” A short silence hung in the air. “At least, as sensible as any other option we have, given the circumstances.”

“But—” Roy was trying desperately to think of something to say to get the woman to drop the idea, but all of his replies were drying up in his throat. He began reviewing the situation once more, hoping for an out, but found none. 

There was no way he was going to let his life slip this far into the deep-end of insanity. Having to deal with the living dead was bad enough, but making meetings between a dead man and his grieving relatives was another thing entirely. The very idea of suggesting such an idea to Alphonse sent shivers down his spine as he contemplated all the ways that a giant, spiky suit of armor could pulverise the human body.

“I understand your concern, Colonel,” she continued. Roy wondered if she knew just how much he was flailing on the other side of the line. “It’s not my first option, either. We’ll try the will first, and if that doesn’t work, then at least we have a backup.”

“Understood, Ms. Jensen.” Roy did his best to conceal the huge flood of relief that washed over him. “Tell me if you hear anything else.”

_From Fullmetal or otherwise…_ The unspoken end of the statement lingered in the air.

He hung up the phone, and, after he heard the click of the receiver, loudly sighed. Wordlessly, he marched over to his couch, flopped onto it, and ran his hands down his face, dragging the flesh with his fingers. He groaned into the emptiness of his living room.

Had Roy said it was going to be a long week? That had been a generous estimate. It seemed like his life had been put into slow-motion indefinitely. When he had tried to come into work that day, Hawkeye had taken one look at his sunken expression and void-swallowed black eyes and marched him to her car, telling him his break had been extended. He had protested, but his words were flat and hollow, and it was apparent to anyone watching that Roy didn’t want to be there.

Normally, Roy used work to forget about his grief, but unfortunately, work _was_ his grief right now. He had passed Alphonse in the halls as he was escorted away by Hawkeye, and although the boy was an expressionless suit of armor, Roy felt as though his soul were being stripped and laid bare before a seething wave of anger. The venomous look that the Rockbell girl shot towards him wasn’t much warmer. 

As much as the situation was fraying at his nerves, though, Roy imagined that Edward was likely going through something far worse. He hadn’t yet managed to get a grasp on what had happened, and so far, Ed hadn’t been present in the land of the living long enough to give a good answer. What was it like from his perspective? Where did he go when he wasn’t in his body? Did Ed know the answer to that question himself?

Dragging himself away from the quiet comfort of his sofa cushions, Roy went to his study and unearthed a pad of paper from under a few half-read books. Taking a pen from a drawer, he sat down and began writing a list of questions he wanted answered the next time he got the chance. Once he had begun writing, he found it hard to stop himself, and by the time he had covered all the subjects he wanted, the pad was much thinner, and the sun at a much lower position in the sky.

_Fullmetal_ , he thought, staring into the radiant and uncomfortable warmth of the setting sun, _if you’re out there somewhere, you better not be doing anything stupid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm sure a lot, if not most, of my readers are more familiar with the FMA side of things and don't know as much, if anything, about the Elder Scrolls, I figured I could use some of these end chapter notes to illuminate certain aspects of the world. I won't be putting in-text citations or making these explanations mandatory, but I figured people might be interested in some of what goes into this story.
> 
> LORE CORNER: NAMES  
> In Arena and Daggerfall, each combination of gender and race has a table of names that can be assigned to an NPC of that combination. These names are determined by selecting one fragment of the name from a list of prefixes and combining it with another fragment from a list of suffixes. Every OC character (except the ones in the FMA world, naturally) follow this convention. For example, "Rodore" is a combination of "Rod-" and "-ore", and "Edwyval" is a combination of "Edw-" and "-yval". Technically, "Edward" is a valid name as well, since an "-ard" suffix exists, but having a different name makes it easier to distinguish the two identities. It also happens to be funny-sounding, which is a bonus.   
> This naming method was dropped in Morrowind and onwards, which feature hand-crafted NPCs exclusively, so the need for randomly generated names no longer existed. However, the aesthetics and culture of the names from the first two games still lives on in The Elder Scrolls to this day.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! See you on Monday!


	5. Oscillation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed gets some answers, and gives some in kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Once again, I'm absolutely floored by the reception this fic has gotten. Thank you so much to anyone who's read this so far. This chapter might lean a bit into exposition territory, but I did my best to make sure it wasn't boring. There's a lot of stuff to cover, so without further ado...

For the first time in days, Edward had a basic grip on reality. 

He was in a place called “Tamriel” — “ _though some older folks still call it Arena,”_ Rodore had explained — which was a supercontinent that sat in the middle of a vast ocean. There were apparently other places: Yokuda, Akavir, and Atmora, although Rodore hadn’t seemed to know much of anything about them. In fact, when he had inquired further about Akavir, the man had started to spout nonsense about vampire snake people and dragon tigers. He decided to stay away from topics that might have grown embellished by folklore and inebriated recollection.

Apparently, humans didn’t even exist in Tamriel — him included. In High Rock, the region he had found himself in, the predominant race was the Bretons, which he just so happened to be a part of. There were plenty of other races, though. Ed was currently having to cope with the existence of elves. God fucking damn it. He doubted elves would be the last mythological entity he would be forced to acknowledge the existence of by the time he managed to get back home. There were the Khajiit, a race of cat-folk, and Argonians, which were lizard people. He thought the man had begun telling tall tales again, but Rodore insisted he was telling the truth. 

When he had asked about politics, the man had given him a pleading look, trying to avoid the topic, but Ed demanded he at least be told the very basics. There was an Empire — the Emperor probably being the same as the one who sent him on his mission — that was essentially the biggest world power. With its central location, Ed was vaguely reminded of Amestris. 

It had been a long and exhausting task just to get up to a level one would expect from a child, and Edward suspected there was much more he had missed. At the very least, he could probably navigate around a city without getting himself arrested on accident. Probably.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me about politics?” Edward had asked, nursing a cup of tea that Ysolda had brewed for the two. He had awoken during the unholy hours between night and morning, and had decided to simply wait for the sun to rise. The blizzard outside had diminished to a light flurry of snow, but the sun was still obscured by clouds. Still, he could see a glow emanating from behind the curtain of fog, and it filled him with a quiet feeling of nostalgia.

“I suppose it would be hard for an outsider like you to understand. High Rock is quite a… fractured place. There’s a lot of small kingdoms and nobility all vying for their petty little fiefdoms. It can get quite tense. And when those tensions come to a boil, people die.”

Ed gulped. Seeing such a cheery man adopt such a stern, solemn expression gave the statement a profound sense of gravity. His curiosity got the best of him, and he continued to press the line of questioning.

“...Did something happen recently?” Ed huddled a bit tighter into his blanket. 

Rodore didn’t answer at first. He stared out the small attic window, as if looking for answers in the movement of the snowflakes. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he replied.

“The Battle of Cryngaine Field,” Rodore said, pointedly looking away from Edward’s gaze. “King Lysandus of Daggerfall — the kingdom we’re in, boy — died in battle two years ago.”

“Two years ago doesn’t sound very recent.”

“No, but what is recent is the hauntings.”

Ed paled. That letter _had_ mentioned something about ghosts. He would have to read it again, now that he knew a bit more than literally nothing.

“At night, the ghost of the king wanders the streets of the city of Daggerfall, attacking all who come near. According to those who see him, the only thing he says is the word ‘vengeance’.”

Ed didn’t know what was whiter — the snow or him. His hands trembled slightly as he tried to avoid spilling tea on the floor. If a single skeleton had sent him spiraling, how was he supposed to deal with a ghost? He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He would deal with that problem later. If he thought too hard about the undead, he was going to throw up again, and the last thing he needed was an empty stomach on top of everything else.

“I think the Mages Guild is going to open soon,” Rodore said, thankfully deciding not to comment on Ed’s reaction. “I can show you where it is, if you want.”

“Thanks,” Ed said softly, standing up with his backpack. If he was lucky, the Guild might be able to help fix his problem. Then again, Ed had never been lucky, so he decided not to bank on it.

It wasn’t a long walk, but Ed made sure to carefully memorize the path. There was no guarantee these people would be friendly to him, and an escape might be necessary. The building they arrived at certainly didn’t dissuade him from this notion, with it’s large, black-brick exterior and emblem of an ominous looking eye hanging just outside the doors.

“Don’t worry,” Rodore said, speaking louder to be heard over the snow, “I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

Ed couldn’t decide if that was supposed to be a compliment.

The whole situation made Ed feel a little absurd, like he was being sent off to school for the first time. He huffed to himself. He was literally an adult now, and should be able to take care of his own damn self. Having psyched himself up, he raised his shoulders.

“Alright, see ya later.” With that, he marched forward and opened the doors with purpose.

Edward had been prepared for anything behind the door, but the truth was surprisingly mundane. The floors were smooth marble, polished to a mirror sheen, and the walls were similarly constructed from polished stone. The walls had been carved with symbols that seemed decorative, but might have a magically significant meaning.

_Magically significant meaning?_ Ed frowned at his own thoughts. _I’ve only been here for a few days and I’ve turned into a goddamn nutcase._

There weren’t many people nearby, but whether that was because of the time of day or reflective of the membership of the Mages Guild in general, Ed couldn’t say. A wizened-looking old man stood at the far end of the lobby, reading to himself and looking bored out of his mind. Corridors broke off and twisted around and out of sight, to other rooms. He coughed trying to get the man’s attention, but the old man didn’t react.

Ed walked toward the man and waved a hand in front of his face. The old man scowled.

“Do you mind?’

Ed recoiled his hand and bit back a retort. “Sorry, but you didn’t seem to hear me.”

The man blinked, as if trying to recall something, then put his book away.

“I apologize, but please, state your business quickly. I’m quite busy, you know.”

The completely empty lobby seemed to suggest otherwise, but with great difficulty, Ed held his tongue again. He opened his mouth, but realized he hadn’t actually thought of what he was going to ask if he got here, so instead the first thing that went through his mind tumbled out.

“Am I a member of the Mages Guild?”

The man stared at him with a scrutinizing expression, and Ed resisted the urge to slap himself. Had he already blown it? After what felt like minutes ticked by, the man spoke.

“I can see you’re a mage,” he said as his eyes flickered down to the hem of Ed’s robe, “do you have reason to believe you’ve lost all of your memories?”

Ed blinked at the frankness of the statement. Maybe honesty really was the best policy in this situation.

“Not… exactly. I think it’s sort of complicated.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Ed thought carefully about how to phrase his next statement.

“Essentially, I’m not from this world originally, and I’ve somehow gotten…” he fished for the right word, “…entwined, I suppose, with my counterpart here.”

The man closed his eyes and hummed thoughtfully. He looked as if he had been told a very profound truth, and not as if Ed had just said the craziest bullshit ever. He placed his book down on a small table, ridding himself of a distraction.

“How much do you know about where we are?”

“I was found by a man when I passed out on the outskirts of town. He gave me an overview of the basics.” Ed paused. “The _very_ basics. I’m not going to be able to tell you something a child doesn’t know.”

“I see. And what of the world you come from?”

He frowned. “I don’t know, do you want to sit here for eight hours as I go over every fucking detail? I haven’t forgotten anything, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“We should move somewhere more appropriate for this conversation,” the man said abruptly, motioning for Edward to follow him, “if you would.”

Ed decided not to remind him of the fact that he was supposed to be a busy man. They took a short journey down rows of corridors that made Ed feel a bit dizzy, until they finally arrived at a modest room, its walls lined with bookshelves. A small table with a handful of chairs sat in the middle of the room, illuminated by the otherworldly light of blue candelabrum that stood in the corners.

“Have a seat,” the man said, motioning towards the table. “This may be a long conversation.”

Ed had the feeling he wasn’t wrong.

“What did you say your name was?” Ed said as he picked a random seat and slid into it.

“My name is Godwyn. I don’t believe I’ve heard yours.”

“Technically, it’s Edwyval, if you believe the stuff I found in my backpack,” he began, his eyes wandering over the sizable collection of books, “but really, it’s Edward. You can call me whatever you want.”

“Alright, then.” A pause. “Edward it is. So, Edward. Can you describe the events leading up to your arrival in Tamriel?”

Ed had done a good job at keeping his composure, but he was unable to stop the dramatic groan that escaped his lips. He placed a hand to his head, looking at Godwyn wearily from across the table.

“Do I have to?”

“It would be rather helpful in getting you back to where you came from. Assuming you want to go back.”

Ed slammed his hands on the table. 

“Of course I want to go back! What the hell kind of stupid question is that?”

“Then you’ll need to explain what happened to me, or I can’t help you.”

Ed slouched into his chair. He stared at the ceiling, trying to muster up the willpower to recall what had happened.

“Fine.” The word escaped from his mouth with a snarl. “But you can’t tell anyone else. This is between us.”

“That isn’t a promise I can keep. It may be necessary to consult the help of others to deal with your situation.”

His scowl deepened.

“Fucking… fine!” He threw up his hands in the air. “I’ll tell you what happened!”

He drew in a deep breath, and exhaled. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“Okay. Where do I even begin with this shit…?”

* * *

Ed was bored.

Avoiding giving his report on time was surprisingly hard work, he reflected, as he felt another hour tick by. He had read this book three times already, and was halfway through another reread on top of that. He had long since read any of the alchemical texts of interest in the East City library, and had resorted to scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Naturally, this meant turning to other, non-alchemy related sections. History went first, as there was still a slim possibility he found a reference to something concerning the Philosopher’s Stone. Unfortunately, he hadn’t discovered anything he didn’t already know, and he had quickly gone through most of the interesting material in the otherwise very dry section.

He had read through most of the other sections in successively quicker time, his hope that he would find something relevant dashed on each occasion. Well, he supposed he couldn’t complain: He had been able to achieve his goal of making the Colonel wait, after all. Still, once he had exhausted all of the sections worth his time, he had no choice but to reread what he had already gone through. And then reread the books he had already reread.

“This is a waste of my fucking time,” he whisper-yelled, tossing the book in the most dramatic fashion he could manage without actually damaging it. Ed always had a soft spot when it came to books, and the noises he made when he saw one being damaged or bent were undignified, to say the least.

He’d be Goddamned if he was going to finish a fourth reread of an introduction to alchemy book intended for absolute beginners. But, on the other hand, what was he going to do if not reread? Sit and wait for time to pass? Ed had never been a patient person, and he took to waiting like oil to water.

Ed casually walked past the directory, hoping to see something he’d missed. His face contorted into a frown when he saw the first listing.

_Alternative…_ He didn’t even attempt to restrain himself from making an exaggerated roll of his eyes. He had gone there once, out of curiosity, and the first book he read had been dripping with so much tripe that he refused to return for a month. The second attempt hadn’t gone much better. Three books, all revealing themselves to be complete garbage by the end of the opening paragraph. He had decided it was a place best avoided, for fear of polluting his young mind.

But that had been years ago. At this point, he could probably recite the fundamentals of alchemy in his sleep, and he knew all the information he had gotten on the Philosopher’s Stone like the back of his hand. It would take a force of nature for him to be lured in by the pseudoscientific babble of some two-bit hack from Who-Gives-A-Fuck-ville. In fact, there was probably a lot of entertainment to be found there.

So Ed had taken it upon himself to read every book in the section, and hadn’t regretted his decision. It took a lot of willpower not to burst into laughter at some of this stuff: one guy raved about the healing power of ley lines, another guy insisted you could regrow a lost limb through special mixtures of herbs and an expensive secret ingredient (acquired only through his business, of course!), and one notable author had sworn he could see into the future by concentrating very, very hard. It never failed to put him in a good mood, which always seemed to baffle the Colonel, making him feel even better. In a few notable instances, he had even been able to put a stop to a few scam artists who had lovingly detailed their methods of operations in fraudulent self-help books.

It seemed almost too good to be true, which, knowing his luck, should have been a sign that it was.

Things had started innocently enough. He figured he was about halfway through the section, and was starting to scrape some of the older stuff, so he had the idea of trying to find the oldest books he could. Outdated attempts at science were some of his favorites from the section, and those tended to be the dustiest tomes. After a bit of random searching, taking books on and off the shelves, he heard an extremely loud thudding noise as something on the opposite side of the bookshelf hit the ground.

After withering under the scathing gaze of a passing library worker, and after a profuse apology, he went to investigate, hoping that whatever had caused the commotion was worth the ding to his pride.

As Ed turned the corner, he grinned. It looked like he had hit the jackpot. A book had indeed fallen over, and it looked like an absolute door stopper. Its cover was bound in a gnarled and twisted leather material, and the words that adorned it were ornate to an almost disgusting degree. Ed could feel his smile spreading from ear to ear. Whatever was in this book was going to be a load of crap, alright, and he was there for it.

It had taken a bit of effort to haul the book over to somewhere he could read it, given the sheer weight of the thing, but he had finally managed to lay it out on a small table in the back. Keeping the book from snapping back shut once it had been opened was another challenge, because the sheer thickness of the tome meant the spine wasn’t eager to stay bent for long periods of time. Once Ed had begun reading, though, he knew the effort had been worth it.

_‘I am Kelkemmelian, a traveler from shores unseen’_. Only one line in and Ed was doubled over in silent laughter. Kelkemmelian — or ‘Kelk’, as he had taken to calling him — couldn’t have been succinct to save his life. His descriptions were overwrought with some of the most flowery and insipid poetic garbage Edward had ever seen. He hadn’t even gotten into the real meat of the book yet.

It was a page-turner. Ed was enraptured by every sentence of the overlong prologue, making mental notes of his favorite passages, to be remembered later for mocking purposes. Hell, maybe he should get Alphonse in on this too, or even the Colonel. The man was like a bad fantasy writer, spending his time explaining over-capitalized details of a fake little world that didn’t exist and didn’t matter.

All of Ed’s joy died the second he began the first chapter.

‘ _The Astute reader may question the Truth of my claims,’_ it started, ‘ _Such bold Proclamations require equally bold Evidence. As proof of my words, I submit, then, a choice Anecdote, which the wise reader shall find Meaning in. I speak, of course, of the Gate, the Source of that art that is known as Alchemy here, and the sole link to my world.’_

Suddenly, the lights of the library seemed a little too bright, the air a little too cold, and the seat a little too hard. Ed looked to his sides, peering over his shoulders, as if he expected to see someone watching him. Had this been some sort of elaborate ruse?

But, as far as he knew, only two people had even seen the Gate: him, and his teacher. Not once, in all of his research, in any alchemical text or journal, had he seen a single reference to that damn Gate.

But here it was. Staring him, plain as day, tucked away where nobody would ever have found it if not for sheer happenstance.

Against his better judgement, Ed decided to put a bit of trust into the book. Not completely, of course, but there could be something here. Maybe this guy had his mind stolen by the Gate attempting human transmutation, and had created this book of mad scribblings afterwards, only dimly aware of reality. With trembling hands, he kept reading.

Unfortunately, Kelk was as wordy as ever, and Ed had hardly gotten anywhere in the book when he realized he needed to get his report to the Colonel sooner rather than later. He tucked the book back into a spot where it wouldn’t be found, then bolted from the library, his face as white as a sheet. He refused to answer Mustang’s inquiries as to why he looked so shaken, instead unleashing a series of choice insults involving various types of farm animals and adjectives he wouldn’t repeat in front of his brother.

The book lingered at the back of his mind during the lulls and downtimes of his missions, and he had a strange sense of excitement at the opportunities he got to read it again. It was slow, dull, and sometimes agonizing work to try to understand the ravings of mad men. However, Ed could begin to see a few patterns emerge.

There was a consistent and recurring theme in the idea of another world. Although Ed wasn’t fond of existing scientific theories that claimed the existence of alternate universes, it was a legitimate belief, so Edward decided that this was, perhaps, the least crazy thing to be found in the book. Much more controversial, though, was Kelk’s claims about the source of alchemy.

‘ _Alchemy is a distorted Magick, warped and twisted to suit the Need of some Vile Aberration, following twisted Laws of Equivalency.’_ Ed bristled at the dismissal of the principle of Equivalent Exchange, but continued. ‘ _A mere effect of Alteration, or of a Thaumaturgical variety, can satisfy what these Alchemists only dream of accomplishing.’_

Something about the word “thaumaturgy” had gnawed at Ed ever since he read it, and another trip back to the alchemy section confirmed his suspicion. Thaumaturgy was a very, very old name for the study of the principles of alchemy, back when it truly was believed to be a form of magic. It was hardly used anymore, only found in textbooks and the writings of crackpots. Somehow, though, Ed didn’t get the sense he was simply referring to an older form of alchemy. If anything, older types of alchemy were less capable and efficient than modern forms, thanks to breakthroughs in research that had been made over the centuries.

Ed was slowly piecing together what Kelk’s theory was. He seemed to believe he had come from another world, on the other side of the Gate, where “magic” trickled into their world in a far more diluted form. He didn’t believe a word of it, of course.

Yet, still, something was eating at him again. There was something about the Gate, an inherent fact of its very metaphysical structure, which seemed to suggest there was a kernel of truth in the man’s words. After all, what was a gate if not a connection between two places, which allowed travel both ways? 

Apparently, the man had tried for a very, very long time to return to his supposed ‘home’. The tome documented his many failed research attempts, many of which were complete gibberish to Ed. Most involved strange and twisted forms of alchemy, so insane that they had a sort of unholy brilliance to them. He made copies of the most interesting circles he found, intending to study their patterns further.

Finally, however, the book ended abruptly. After detailing yet another attempt to cross over, there was nothing. An anticlimax. Ed figured the man had either died, or, impossibly, his idea had worked. Each circle had been more abnormal than the last, and the final one was no exception. It was a jutting array of asymmetries upon asymmetries, exuding a feeling of sharpness and instability that made Ed’s skin crawl. It was like looking over a railing to see a long, long drop, and feeling the prickles that made your feet lighter and your head dizzy. He didn’t want to look at the thing.

But he had to. Because as much as he hated to admit it, the madman knew what he was doing. His grasp of alchemy was strong (as it would have to be if he had been able to see the Gate), and his… eclectic view of the subject meant he dove headfirst into subjects most respectable alchemists wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. Ed had learned his lesson about the dangers of dabbling with the taboo, but he figured he shouldn’t worry too hard about it.

Maybe he should have.

He had told Alphonse he might have found a lead on a way to restore their bodies without alchemy. It was a half-truth, of course, since what he was doing was technically still alchemy, but it was so far removed from all the conventions and rules he had known that he could hardly call it the same. Many cultures had their own approach to the fundamental force that lay behind alchemy, but this was something totally idiosyncratic, the product of one man’s mind. Ed almost felt a twisted sense of pride in him.

Ed had been careful not to activate any of the arrays he had copied, since God knows what they’d do if he did, but his mind always seemed to wander back to that last circle. There was something significant about it, he knew it, but he didn’t even know where to begin with its patterns. To the untrained eye, it looked like someone had simply scribbled randomly, which is how it appeared to him, at first, but careful study had revealed there was a method to the madness.

Or maybe he was just going crazy. It had to happen eventually, he supposed.

He had been very careful in his studies, making absolutely sure to keep the object of his research at arm’s length. So, naturally, he fucked up like a big idiot, and that’s about when things went to hell.

He was so tired, between the Colonel giving him a series of increasingly dull and tedious missions and his own research endeavors, and fatigue was eating away at him quicker each day. He had neglected his hunger further, much to his brother’s displeasure, which didn’t help. After a few more hours of unsuccessfully attempting to figure out what the fuck was wrong with the stupid circle, he decided to take a small nap. Yes, sleep. Sleep would help.

As he began to slip under, he didn’t notice his hand drifting closer and closer to the array, until finally, they made contact. There was the briefest flicker of blue lightning, and Ed’s eyes shot open, widened in the realization that he had probably made the second-biggest mistake of his life.

There was a very peculiar sound — as if a very tight string had suddenly been cut. It didn’t propagate through air, but through his mind. All at once, Ed felt every muscle in his body go limp, and he collapsed. He felt like a puppet whose cords had snapped. The mental image was almost absurd enough to make him ignore the fact that he was in very deep shit. Almost wasn’t enough, though, and Ed began to silently panic.

Was this how it all ended for him? Accidentally locking himself into a fit of full-body paralysis? Ed could do nothing but wail to nobody in his mind, hoping his cry for help could somehow be heard. 

Then, he felt it. It was nearly imperceptible, at first. It came through in waves, like the ocean, slowly encroaching on him. It was tugging at him in a way Ed didn’t understand. The gentle lapping suddenly turned to a violent maelstrom, slamming into him with the force of a tsunami. He was jostled, forced completely out of himself, tumbling through an endless void.

_Maybe my insanity hypothesis had more merit to it than I thought,_ Ed thought helplessly, as he descended through an inky black expanse. Soon, however, he could see a light from below him. It was small, at first, just a pinprick. But it grew, and rapidly. Ed had expected that as he approached it, he would feel warmth, but he soon realized the opposite was true. The void was already boiling, seething with a primal sort of energy and heat that seemed to creep into the deepest recesses of his soul, silently shrieking with movement. The circle soon grew big enough to encompass the whole of his vision, and suddenly, he felt a great shift. He tried to whip his body (or what felt like his body at the time) around, to see where he had come from.

It felt like he was staring directly at the sun, because he literally was. It was radiant, beaming with a light that Ed swore had not been there when he had passed through the other side. Surrounding the sun was the stars, its heavenly consorts, feeling like pin pricks in the fabric of reality. Ed felt dizzy, like his mind was coming unraveled, and the sensation of falling through the air wasn’t helping.

The sun and the stars were getting farther away, and the buzzing, living energy of the fabric of the world around him was beginning to feel more distant. He was becoming more grounded, almost literally, as he turned and saw the land was coming up to meet him. Uselessly, he raised his hands, hoping to avoid a high-speed collision, but it was useless. He plummeted towards the ocean, where he could just make out the outline of a ship being torn apart by a storm, before things went black.

When Ed came to, he was cold, wet, and even more miserable than normal.

* * *

“...And that’s about it.” Ed took the end of his story as an opportunity to take a giant swig of the water he had been given by Godwyn, as his throat felt like the fucking Liore desert after how much talking and explaining he had to do. He was pretty sure it had taken the better part of the afternoon, and although there weren’t any windows in the accursed place, he bet the sun had traveled quite a distance since he had arrived.

“I see.” The man contemplated his words.

Ed nearly spat out his water in anger.

“‘I see’? Are you fucking kidding me? That’s all you have to say after everything I’ve told you?”

Godwyn frowned. “You haven’t given me much time to consider the matter.”

He grumbled again, but said nothing.

There was more silence. Ed was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t finally managed to convince him he was crazy. Maybe they would just cart him off to whatever the Tamriel equivalent of a madhouse was. 

“That’s certainly a most troubling tale. Nothing in it makes me doubt the veracity of your claims, so for the time being, we will go off your word. Unfortunately, since you aren’t a member, you won’t have access to most of our resources that might help you deal with this.” Godwyn paused, possibly for dramatic effect. “I could, however, permit you to join. If you’re talented enough, you could easily rise to a high enough rank to find suitable help in a reasonable time frame.”

Ed gave him a wary look, trying his best to weigh his options despite barely even knowing what his options were. “What do I have to do to join?”

“Simply agree to take an oath stating you won’t steal from or kill other members. We’re quite lax on regulating our member’s activities, outside of forbidden research.”

He really didn’t feel comfortable pledging himself to an organization he just learned about, after he had been in civilization for less than half a day, but he didn’t feel like he had much of a choice.

“What if I say no?”

Godwyn’s lips perked up in something approximating a grin.

“Do you think we’ll kill you, or something? This is just an organization for the benefit of Mages. We don’t have much say about what people outside of our group do.”

Ed took a deep breath. After a moment, he looked back at Godwyn.

“Alright, fine, whatever. Tell me whatever stupid oath you want me to say.”

“Understood. Repeat after me…”

* * *

It had been an uneventful initiation, and he had been unceremoniously sent off to a rather humble set of living quarters. Strangely, it seemed nobody but him was actually there.

“The Guild here isn’t the busiest location in the world,” Godwyn had explained, “and we tend to keep most of our initiates busy with work.”

Ed gave him a look as he tossed his backpack towards the side of an empty bed. “What kind of work?”

“Nothing too special, just ways to earn a few septims while helping senior members out. It often involves the retrieval of particular items from dungeons.”

He grew pale at the last word. “Dungeons? You mean I have to go through more of them?”

“Well… yes, I’m afraid. Oh, don’t give me that look,” he chided, noting how horrified Ed looked, “with proper preparation, they aren’t nearly as bad as they seem.”

Ed scowled. “Do I look like I know what ‘proper preparation’ is?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll give you a rundown of some of the basics.”

He crossed his arms. This man seemed awfully generous towards a total stranger. Rodore had been charitable as well, but he didn’t have the same calculating demeanor that Godwyn did.

“Trust me, I need someone who can reliably complete the tasks I give them as much as you need help. Didn’t you say something in your story about the principle of Equivalent Exchange? I think this would fall under that.”

Although Ed didn’t completely trust the man, he could at least accept that explanation for now.

“We can begin tomorrow. On what, I’m not sure, but there’s always something that needs done around here.”

Ed shrugged. He was just about out of energy for talking, and dramatically threw himself on the bed, closing his eyes. Thankfully, Godwyn took the hint and left, leaving Edward to drift into an uneasy sleep. This time, however, he was more prepared for what he knew would inevitably come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORE CORNER: LIGHTNING ROUND  
> Oh, boy, there's a lot of stuff to cover. Going into depth about every single topic mentioned or alluded to in this chapter would take much more space than I have here, so I'll try to be brief.  
> -"Arena" is a nickname for Tamriel, stemming from how the continent is constantly beset by wars and fighting. This is a retroactive explanation to explain why the first game is called Arena. In reality, the Elder Scrolls was originally going to be a gladiatorial fighting game, but the team realized the role-playing aspects were more fun than the actual combat, and so changed focus.  
> -Despite Ed's disbelief, there really is a race of vampire snake-people, the Tsaesci, and tiger-dragons, the Ka Po' Tun, in Akavir. In fact, the Tsaesci invaded Tamriel several times in the past, and their cultural influence left a lasting mark on the Empire to this day, indirectly leading to the creation of the Blades, among other things. The Tsaesci have done other things, but in the interest of space I'll leave that as further reading. There's also a race of monkey-people called the Tang Mo, but that's neither here nor there.  
> -Yokuda and Atmora are where the Redguards and Nords came from, respectively, before they migrated to Tamriel. Very little is known about either continent, since their migration happened a very long time ago and wasn't well recorded. There is a reason why everyone on Nirn (the collective name for the entire world) is seemingly attracted to Tamriel, but that's a Lore Corner for another day.  
> -Every race in Tamriel can either be categorized as "Men" or "Mer" based on their ancient descendants, except for the Argonians, who were created by a race of sentient trees called the Hist. Mer are elves, and Men are humanoids. The definition of an elf is very broad in the Elder Scrolls, covering pretty much everything that isn't Redguards, Nords, or Imperials. In fact, Bretons are essentially half-elves, but I think Ed would have a conniption if he figured that out.  
> -Kelkemmelian is an Altmeric, or High Elven, name, a combination of "Kelkemme-" and "-lian".  
> -In the Elder Scrolls, the sun is actually not actually a giant ball of gas in space, but a literal hole in reality. It was created when Magnus, the god of magic and architect of reality, realized he would be trapped in creation if he stayed there, so he departed, creating a hole where he exited. The stars are the holes left by the Magna Ge, who followed him out of creation. There's a lot more to say on the topic of Elder Scrolls cosmology and myths, but I'll save that for another Lore Corner.
> 
> Thank you for reading! See you guys on Thursday!


	6. The Logical Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed repeats himself. Roy makes a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm not super satisfied with this chapter, but it's quite a significant one, so buckle up.

Roy made sure to assert his authority in order to make his next visit to the morgue discreet. He was already under enough scrutiny as it was, and he didn’t need to be seen creeping around the morgue on top of it. He was lucky to have someone on the inside to help him cover his tracks.

He had been in the room for a few hours at this point, staring at the corpse of his subordinate. With how hyperactive Edward normally was, it was bizarre to see him so completely and utterly still. It was more bizarre to see him oscillate between life and death, but it didn’t stop the thought from entering his head. Roy was almost beginning to think he had wasted his time when the small body on the table opened its eyes. Roy shuddered. He could never get used to this.

Cautiously, Ed sat up, eyeing the two wordlessly. After a few seconds, he let out a disappointed sigh.

“Damn,” he said in a weak, raspy voice, “I kinda miss when I could scare the shit outta you, Colonel.”

“I won’t stand for backtalk from a major, Fullmetal.”

Ed gaped at him, sitting himself up with his elbows

“Am I still a major? They didn’t give me a post-mortem promotion?” He scowled. “Whatever. I don’t really give a shit. You’re here for a reason, right? Got something to say?”

Without so much as a witty retort, Roy shoved a notepad into Ed’s hands. The boy looked over it, expression going from disinterest to annoyance to shock as he flipped the pages.

“How many fucking questions did you write down?”

“I lost count at around fifty.”

Ed glowered. When he had flipped to the last page of the notepad, he turned it back to the beginning, then stared back at Mustang.

“Ok, fine. You want that in writing or what?” 

“Whatever gets me answers the fastest,” Roy replied.

Ed suddenly became very angry, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Are you fucking kidding me!? I just got done explaining it once, and now I have to do it again? This is bullshit!” The boy huffed, laying back down and crossing his arms.

Roy frowned. “Again?”

Ed gave him a condescending look, which morphed into realization a few seconds later.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “I guess you weren’t there for that.”

“For what, exactly?” Roy frowned. He was used to Fullmetal giving him roundabout answers, but he figured that Ed would have the sense to get to the point, given the dire situation.

Ed huffed. “I’m getting to that! Do you want an explanation or not?”

Roy sighed, rubbing his temples. This was hard enough without nursing a headache.

“When your answers to my questions just create more questions, I can’t exactly be blamed for asking them. I don’t even know where to start with this.”

“You’re telling me,” Ed grumbled.

As he looked closer at the boy’s expression, he noticed a certain sense of hesitation to his actions. Ed’s eyes seemed to drift listlessly from side to side, and he was nervously biting his lip. 

“Is something wrong?”

Ed shot him a look of burning hatred, and sat himself back up.

“No, Mustang,” he began, in a mocking, sugary-sweet tone of voice, “everything is fine. What could have given you that impression?”

Roy smirked. “Well, you’re just as irritating and lively as ever, so I figured—”

Mirriam loudly cleared her throat, cutting Roy off mid-banter. The two looked over at Mirriam, who was staring daggers at the both of them.

“I hate to interrupt this engaging debate,” she said sharply, “but we should focus on more important tasks at the moment.”

Ed turned his gaze toward the floor, and the faintest hints of a blush could be seen through his messy, drooping bangs.

“...Right. Sorry.” His reply was sheepish, mumbled quietly. Roy merely looked away from the woman, not wanting to cross her again.

“We came up with two ideas for how to go about dealing with the situation,” she continued, “one of which involves writing the will, like we discussed earlier.” 

“And what’s the second one?” Ed had leaned back, bracing himself on his hands.

“We could directly schedule a meeting between you and your brother.”

Ed’s eyes widened and he froze. His gaze had suddenly become very distant, focused on something a thousand miles away. He looked shocked, almost like he was going to be sick to his stomach.

“Right,” he replied weakly after a while, laughing faintly, “Al…”

His gaze drifted down again, coming to rest on the floor. He slumped over, and curled his legs inward, holding them in his arms.

Roy felt a pang of sympathy tug at his heartstrings. He knew Ed hated to be away from Al’s side for more than a few days, so the current situation was probably eating away at the boy from the inside. He would have offered a hug, or some other gesture of condolence, but he knew Ed would merely be offended by it. Mirriam’s softer gaze made it clear she had noticed the sadness in his body language, but she pressed forward.

“Our current plan is to write up the will, and if that doesn’t work, we can try the meeting. It shouldn’t take long to write—”

“No.” 

Given how shaken the boy looked, it was a surprise how firm he sounded. Roy shot him a glare.

“Excuse me?” Roy said, staring at Ed.

“No. I wanna see Al.” He stared back at the Colonel, reinvigorated with the fire from earlier. “He’s my brother.”

“Yes, but I don’t know if—”

“Shut up! You don’t know  _ anything  _ about us!” He slammed his automail hand onto the table he lay upon, causing a hairline fracture to emerge in the stone. “You can’t keep me away from him!”

“Fullmetal, I’m not trying to separate you, I just think—”

Ed wasn’t having any of it. He sprung up from the table, briefly losing his balance and bracing himself against its cracked surface. Still, he tried to hold himself as upright as he could, looking angrier than usual that he had to crane his neck to look at Roy.

“I’m going.” The statement was final. Ed began a forward march toward the door, which was quickly interrupted when Roy planted a firm hand on his shoulder. Ed froze, and slowly turned his head to face him once more. His expression was a deep glower, and Roy could feel his small body violently trembling. The boy was pale, but that only made the deep, angry blush that spanned his face stand out all the more.

“You wanna stop me?” His voice was low, but dangerous. He slowly raised his automail arm towards his other hand, unfurling its palm as if he were about to clap. 

It would be disastrous if Ed went on a rampage. It would cause incredible amounts of damage that would likely take a hefty chunk out of Roy’s paycheck, sure, but there was an even more pressing consequence. The Fullmetal Alchemist had a very… unique way of using his alchemy, to say the least, and Roy could tell if a given instance of large-scale destruction was his handiwork from a mile away. Naturally, so could his brother. If Alphonse saw — no, even got word — of some sort of disaster happening at the morgue, he would know it was his brother’s handiwork immediately. Roy decided that was a scenario best avoided.

“Mr. Elric.” 

Mirriam’s voice was chilly, and its interjection caught Ed off guard. He quickly continued staring down Roy, but the man could tell there was a gap in his defenses now. It was two against one, and while Ed would freely challenge the Colonel, a relative stranger who had done nothing wrong in his eyes was a different story.

“Fullmetal,” Roy began, his voice slow, both to avoid setting the boy off and to give him time to think, “I don’t want to keep you away from your brother. But remember, you still have questions that I — we all need answered. If you can answer those questions, I’ll let you see your brother.”

Ed’s eyes narrowed, and he wordlessly sized up the Colonel. He was completely still under Roy’s hand, but the man could tell his mind was moving a mile a minute. Thankfully, his shoulders eventually drooped, and he stared back at the floor, sighing deeply.

“Fine,” he mumbled, defeated. “I’ll do it. But you better not be lying!”

His energy returned briefly at the last sentence, but he didn’t rebel further. He trudged back to the table, getting himself into a comfortable position.

“So…” His voice trailed, and his gaze wandered around the room before settling back onto Roy. “Where should I start?”

* * *

Ed was glad he had all night to talk, because he needed all the time he could get. It was almost funny, from a certain point of view: He had just explained his world to somebody from another world, and now he needed to explain another world to someone from his world. 

Almost funny. Because trying to actually explain things was like pulling teeth.

He silently missed how good of a listener Godwyn had been, who had patiently sat through Ed’s long, angry, and detour-filled rant about how he had gotten to Tamriel, only pausing to interject with a few key questions regarding concepts he hadn’t explained. Unfortunately, Roy was far more skeptical, which Ed would have taken to be one of his few positive character traits in almost any other situation.

“So you woke up in the middle of a thunderstorm on a sinking ship,” Roy said in a deadpan tone, taking notes as he went. “The last time I checked, the ocean was a fair bit away from East City.”

Ed crossed his arms. “Do you want me to tell you what happened or do you just want to make more dumbass comments to yourself?”

Roy smirked. “Oh, don’t mind me. I simply have a habit of talking aloud when I write.” He emphasized his point with a flourish of his pen.

Ed knew he had no such habit, but he ignored it. He wanted this done soon rather than later. He had carefully managed to avoid any references to magic or other worlds in the explanation so far, merely framing it as a freak accident caused by outsider alchemic theories, but he knew that he would have to burn that bridge sooner rather than later.

“So you ended up in this cave, and the entrance collapsed. Then what?”

“I found a log, and I tried using alchemy to get the water out of it so I could make a fire, but it didn’t work.”

Roy frowned. “Why not?”

“It just—” Ed made a motion to clap his hands, stopping short of actually doing it, then spread them forwards, displaying them for Roy. “Nothing.”

Ed didn’t know what the expression that briefly crossed the Colonel’s face was, but he knew he didn’t like it. Seeing such a piercing and calculating gaze locked directly on him sent a shiver down his spine.

“I see,” Roy said after a short pause, writing something down. “So what did you do?”

“I had a bag with me, so I went through it to see if I had anything helpful. There was a knife in there, and I cut my finger on it, but get this—” he leaned forward slightly, as if for dramatic effect. “It was my  _ right  _ hand.” 

Roy’s frown deepened. “You had two real hands?”

Ed nodded, glad the Colonel was at least beginning to take his story seriously. “Yeah. I was confused as fuck, of course. I managed to get a fire going, and sure enough, I saw I had two good legs.”

Had Roy been frowning before? Now he was outright scowling. His brow furrowed as he looked towards his notes, raising a hand to his mouth.

“...Colonel?” There was an edge of anxiety to Ed’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

Roy snapped back to attention. His expression from earlier had been wiped away, now replaced with a facade of neutrality.

“Sorry, Ed,” he said, his voice unnaturally even. “Continue.”

Ed felt another chill race down his spine.

“Well, if you can believe it, the arm and leg weren’t the craziest part.” Ed took a deep breath, steeling himself. “In the bag, I also found a book of — and I know this sounds crazy, but listen to me — spells.”

The Colonel tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Like, magic spells? Are you pulling my leg?” 

It was Ed’s turn to scowl. “Look. I didn’t believe it any more than you do. But I tried using one of them — out of curiosity, don’t give me that look — and it  _ worked _ .”

Ed didn’t know if it was possible for his heart to beat any faster. He had no idea what the Colonel would even think of everything else he had told him, let alone the revelation that Ed believed in literal magic now. Time seemed to stretch before his eyes, and the moment turned into lifetimes, agonizingly dripping past him.

Finally, Roy sighed, putting away his notes.

“What?” Ed sat up a bit straighter. “Don’t you have any more questions for me?”

“I did, until it became clear that you weren’t going to give me any useful information.” Roy looked him dead in the eyes. “When are you going to start telling the truth,  _ Edward _ ?”

“I  _ have  _ been telling the truth! And don’t ‘ _ Edward _ ’ me, you aren’t my fucking mom!” The way the man had nearly spat his name sent him into a cold sweat. “Look, it’s insane, but isn’t everything else about this situation?” 

He motioned to either side of him, his palms splayed outwards.

“You have to believe me,” Ed continued, with as much firmness as he could muster in his neglected body. “ _ Please. _ ”

Mirriam, who had been silently observing the informal interrogation, stepped forward.

“Colonel Mustang, if I may have a moment.” She gestured out towards the hall.

Roy’s gaze flickered from his subordinate to the woman several times.

“Fine.  _ Stay put _ , Fullmetal.” With his stern warning, Ed was left alone in the room.

With nobody around to look, he was freely able to bury his face in his hands. His body was wracked by silent sobs, but he refused to let any tears drop.

He was so absorbed in his emotions that he had no awareness of his surroundings. If he had, he might’ve noticed the strange black bird that had been sitting outside the window, staring at the proceedings with unnatural interest. He might’ve noticed its eyes, shrewdly beady and the color of freshly spilled blood. He might’ve noticed as it flew off, its warbling song sounding more like a vicious laugh than any noise a bird could ever make.

* * *

Once they were safely out of Ed’s earshot, Roy turned to Mirriam.

“You can’t seriously believe a word he’s saying.” It wasn’t a question, but an order. Mirriam sadly shook her head.

“I don’t, but it’s obvious you’re scaring him with your behavior.” She folded her arms, holding her ground. “How are you going to get him to talk if he’s too afraid to speak?”

“How do we know he’s going to tell us anything useful?” Roy threw his hands up in the air. “Did you hear what he was saying? It sounds like he’s lost his damn mind.”

“Even if he has ‘lost his mind’, as you put it, we might still be able to piece together what happened through the subconscious influence his experiences might have had on him. It’s far-fetched, I admit, and I still don’t believe it myself. But still, a person coming back from the dead is equally far-fetched, don’t you think? And yet, that is the situation we currently find ourselves in. ”

Unfortunately, Roy had to admit she had a point. Dead people can’t come back to life. It defied the very nature of alchemy itself for it to occur. And yet, Ed was there, in that room, talking and breathing and getting angry like he normally did.

Unless. A thought that had crossed Roy’s mind during the interrogation, but that had been quickly suppressed, crept to the surface once more. He hadn’t wanted to consider it, because the ramifications chilled Roy to the bone. But the more he turned it over in his head, the more it seemed like the only explanation.

A while back, Ed had explained to Roy what he had discovered about the nature of their opponent. They couldn’t use alchemy, but seemed to have supernatural abilities beyond those that alchemy offered. They had uncanny regenerative abilities, and could even replace missing arms and legs. They had no soul, were unnaturally pale, bore a striking red tattoo, and most grotesquely of all, were the results of human transmutation, their image being an exact replica of the person they were intended to be.

Tattoo and limbs aside, Ed — or whatever the thing in the room that looked like Ed was — seemed to fit the description too well. Of course, human beings can’t come back from being dead. But what if “Ed” wasn’t even human at all.

What had once been a fleeting doubt quickly solidified in his mind as conviction. Yes, whatever was in that room wasn’t the Fullmetal Alchemist at all.

It was a homunculus.

“Colonel Mustang, sir?” 

He was drawn from his thoughts by Mirriam’s question. There was a look of concern on her face — whether for Roy or herself, he wasn’t sure. He stared at her, and she took a step back in response.

“Mirriam,” he said, lowering his voice. He didn’t know if homunculi could hear better than humans, after all. “When you were examining the boy’s body, did you happen to see a red tattoo of some sort?”

“What?” She sounded completely baffled. “I’m not sure where this is coming from, but no, we didn’t.”

The lack of a tattoo seemed like evidence against his theory, but it was a minor problem in the grand scheme of things. It could have been in a spot where they wouldn’t have thought to check, or even somewhere that wasn’t visible. The tattoo might not even be necessary for the homunculi — it could have been a willingly adopted symbol, once they understood their true nature.

He doubted the thing in the room knew it was a homunculi, not yet, at least. From what he had heard about Wrath, they seemed to start off unaware of their true nature. “Edward” could have just unwittingly given Roy the clues to his true nature by sharing a dream with him. The lack of alchemy, the sudden appearance of lost limbs, strange abilities beyond what humans were capable of…

“Colonel, you don’t look very well.” Mirriam waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you feeling alright?”

If the situation wasn’t so dire, he might have laughed. Of course he wasn’t feeling alright. He had almost let himself get fooled by that creature wearing the face of Fullmetal. Was the real Edward Elric dead after all? Was he still out there somewhere, perhaps taken captive by the other homunculi? His mind flashed with images of Ed being held in some dirty hellhole in the middle of nowhere, being tortured by inhuman monstrosities. He tried to ignore the thought as he gave his reply.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “However, I’m currently wondering if it's unwise for you to be assigned to this job.”

“Excuse me?” she said, taken aback. “Where is this coming from?”

“The military is dangerous. Getting involved in its affairs can be dangerous, and I don’t know if I can let you be involved with this anymore in good conscience.”

“Let me remind you, Colonel, that this is a military facility.” She stood upright, staring him straight in the eyes with a furrowed brow. “The staff here is part of the military, as well. We all knew what we signed up for when we joined.”

“I’m not sure if that’s true.” Roy placed a hand under his chin, thinking rapidly. He had to come up with a way to deal with this situation, and quickly. As much as he knew he should, he couldn’t bear to kill that thing. It looked too much like Edward, and it probably reacted in the exact same way. Seeing the boy die by his own hand, even if it was just an imitation, would destroy him. So, as much as he hated himself for it, he would leave it alive for now. The second it revealed its true colors, though, Roy would make sure his gloves were at the ready.

“What is it that you’re so certain I can’t handle? Surely you can at least tell me?”

Her arms were crossed. It was clear that she wasn’t moving an inch until she got an explanation she was satisfied with.

“Listen,” Roy replied, voice even lower than it had been. “If I told you, it wouldn’t just be you in danger. There are some things that shouldn’t be discussed within the military.”

The woman looked like she wanted to reply, but no words came to her. Her eyes held a mixture of emotions — anger, fear, distrust, sadness — but eventually, she turned around, refusing to look at the Colonel any longer.

“Fine. It’s clear that I’m not going to be able to do anything if you obstruct me at every turn.” She only looked back at him briefly before storming away.

“I hope to God you know what you’re doing, Colonel.”

It was just him now, alone in the hallway. He could only hope he was doing the right thing, because the alternative was too much for him to bear.

He slowly walked back towards the room, wondering how he should explain things to Ed. He silently hissed to himself. No, that thing wasn’t Ed. He needed to figure out how to explain things to the  _ homunculus  _ who had stolen Edward’s appearance. He couldn’t let his inner thoughts become clear, either — he needed to keep that thing in the dark as long as he could. This could be an opportunity to learn their weaknesses, and understand the best way to fight them.

He decided he would humor the thing, for now, and let it think Roy still trusted it. That way, it might let its guard down if Roy did have to fight it. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

The thing bolted up, looking at Roy with frightened, staring eyes. For a brief second, he thought the thing might have heard his conversation, but the expression soon softened, and it was clear it was just startled.

“Jesus, Colonel,” it laughed, rubbing the back of his head, “knock next time, alright? You scared the shit out of me.”

It took all the effort Roy had not to grimace that the creature so casually imitated Ed’s demeanor. It took even more effort to shoot back a playful reply.

“Next time, don’t be so startled by someone opening a door.” He hoped his voice wouldn’t give away his disgust. “Let’s continue the questioning.”

“Hang on a second,” the homunculus said, looking around nervously, “what happened to that other chick?”

“She had to step away. Are you going to answer the questions or not?”

Roy didn’t know whether the thing would accept the explanation or not, as it looked warily at him, but it finally caved.

“Fine,” it said, repositioning itself to get more comfortable, “let’s  _ actually  _ get this over with.”

The rest of the session went by in a blur. Roy robotically wrote down everything the homunculus said, in the hopes that it would provide him some clues later. He hadn’t really been absorbing the information. The thing almost seemed unnerved by how little he seemed to care.

“...And that’s basically it.” The homunculus flopped over, letting out a deep sigh. “Fuck, that took forever. Hey, Mustang, you alright? You’ve been kinda out of it for the past few hours.”

“Hmmm? Oh, don’t worry about me,” he said absentmindedly. Now that he had gotten all the information, he quickly realized the promise he had made about letting him see Al. This was absolutely out of the question, of course — there was no way he was going to let Alphonse get hurt by this thing, either physically or emotionally. He didn’t know if the boy could handle seeing an inhuman monster wearing his brother’s face.

“Fullmetal, how long has it been since you’ve eaten anything?” Roy said, looking at the boy carefully.

“What? Where is this coming from? Although now that you mention it… huh. You know, I would have thought I’d be starving, but I don’t feel very hungry right now. That’s pretty strange…” it furrowed its brow, consumed by thought.

Of course. It wasn’t human, so it didn’t need to eat. 

“That is strange, yes,” he said tersely. “Are you tired at all?”

The thing gave him a look that made it look like it thought he was an idiot.

“I’m sleeping right now, idiot. Weren’t you paying attention at all? Or are your ears just completely full?”

Roy hadn’t been paying attention, so he had absolutely no idea what the thing meant. Before he could ask for clarification, though, the homunculus shuddered, nearly falling off the table it lay on before catching itself with its flesh hand.

“Fuck,” it said, its voice shaky, “I thought I had more time…”

Its hand gave out from under it and it fell back to the table, groaning softly.

“This sucks…” Its voice was growing quieter by the sentence. All the tension built up in its tiny body was slowly uncoiling, and its eyes were beginning to glaze over. Its gaze flicked weakly toward Roy as he began to step towards it.

“Fuck… you… Colonel…” it said with what sounded like a dying breath. “You better not… do anything weird… while I’m gone…”

With one last shudder that seemed to wrack its entire body, its eyes closed, and it died once more.

It sickened Roy that even though he knew what he was looking at, he couldn’t help but think it looked peaceful. It looked so much like Ed that it was easy to see why he was fooled before.

But he wasn’t going to be tricked a second time. Knowing what he knew now, he still couldn’t let the funeral happen. Roy’s mind raced with images of the creature crawling from the grave in the middle of the night to destroy Resembool as the village slept, laughing maniacally as it stood in its ruins. He pictured Alphonse, his hand unable to make the killing blow, caught off guard, his blood seal shattered by an inhumanly precise strike. 

Roy was glad he hadn’t eaten anything all day, because he almost certainly would have thrown up.

He managed to find a passing person in the halls who looked like they were responsible for caring for the bodies. He hailed them down and made his request.

“The Elric one? Isn’t that supposed to be under observation?”

“Plans have changed. I need you to keep it locked up at all times, no matter what. Please secure it, as well, so that it can’t move.”

The man frowned. “It’s a dead body. How much movement is it going to get up to?”

“Are you questioning my orders?”

The man jumped slightly. “U-uh, no sir. Right away.”

He scurried away in a fashion that vaguely reminded Roy of a mouse. Now that the homunculus was safely locked up, he could think of what he needed to do next. Unfortunately, no good ideas seemed to be forthcoming. There was nothing he was going to be able to do on his own, let alone anything that stayed within the confines of military regulations. This was going to be an ordeal — and he needed all the help he could get.

Roy grimaced as he passed by a window on his way out, seeing the sun begin to peek up from the horizon. Once he didn’t feel like he was going to pass out from fatigue, he was going to call up Hawkeye. This was something the team needed to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Lore Corner for this one, since there's no lore to elaborate on.
> 
> See you on Monday!


	7. Roughing It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed goes adventuring. Roy bides his time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Today's chapter is a bit uneventful, but there will be more action soon enough.

Even though he had finally gotten a full night’s rest for the first time in days, Ed didn’t feel very refreshed. His stomach churned as he remembered how the Colonel had acted towards the end of their little questioning session. He seemed so… distant, like his mind wasn’t even there at all. However, even though Ed desperately wanted answers, Mustang was currently a literal world away, and there was nothing that could be done about it now. He would have to ask the man the next time he got the chance.

It was outrageously early in the morning, judging by how dark the sky still was when he peeked outside the doors to the guildhall.

“I see you’re awake.”

Ed nearly jumped a foot in the air. He swung around, and saw Godwyn standing behind him, pretending like he wasn’t amused at having scared the fucking daylights out of Ed.

“What the hell was that for?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. Now, would you like to begin a proper initiation or not?”

Ed had several choice swear words he wanted to share with the old geezer, but he settled for darkly mumbling something that sounded like “fine, whatever.”

“Very good. First thing’s first, you need a pair of clothes that don’t look like they’ve sat in a crypt for a decade.”

Ed looked down at himself and had to admit the man was right. His robe — that he was still wearing, for some reason — looked like several types of animals had taken turns chewing, tearing, and spitting on it, not necessarily in that order. It had probably been a light blue color, once, but now it was covered in so much blood, dirt, mud, and other filth that it could have been anything. He was also distinctly aware of the holes where it had been sliced into, the air gently blowing through them and onto his exposed skin.

“I could easily get some for you myself, of course, but I believe it would be more beneficial to have you make them.”

_ Make them?  _ Ed thought. “Do I look like a seamstress to you?”

“No, but if you want to sew your own clothes, be my guest. However, I find that magic is a far quicker method for getting the job done.”

It was obvious he meant magic, now that Ed thought about it. He really needed to get used to this at a quicker rate, even though he was already terrifyingly comfortable with everything going on around him as it was.

“Okay, but how?”

“I can teach you. Normally, it costs money to receive information on how to perform a new spell from another guild member, but I’ll make an exception. I’ll simply take the money for your training out of the payment for your next job.”

Ed couldn’t complain about it. It seemed like an equivalent enough exchange.

“Take out your spellbook, if you would.”

He took his backpack off, quickly fishing out the book, which he had placed in an easy-to-reach location. Looking at the contents of the thing, he decided he should probably give it another look later. Ed hesitantly gave the book to the man, who flipped it to the first open page. Godwyn traced something invisibly with his finger and mumbled something under his breath.

Words appeared upon the surface of the page, coming to life as if they had been spilled there. The familiar-yet-unfamiliar symbols in the unknown language rapidly filled most of the space, and at the top was, in plain text, “Create Item.”

“That should do it,” the old man said as he handed the book back to an astounded-looking Ed. “Please study this and get back to me when you look more presentable.”

Ed frowned at his last statement, but didn’t comment. He went back to his temporary housing, intent on figuring things out on his own. He stared at the newly-minted page, wincing at the feeling that something was probing his mind as he did. It wasn’t going to be as simple to cast this one: He didn’t have any muscle memory to rely on. He was going to have to start from scratch with his understanding.

He highly doubted that magic was just a series of hand gestures — there was a principle behind it. So how had muscle memory gotten him this far? It was possible that his instinctual recall of how to cast spells wasn’t merely limited to the movement of his hands, but the movement of something else, as well. What exactly that “something” was, Ed wasn’t sure, but he would be damned if he couldn’t figure it out.

Godwyn had explained that use of the library was restricted to higher ranking members, so he had no external resources to rely on besides the old man himself, who he was not keen on slinking back to after he had just started. 

A realization hit him, and he looked back at his backpack.

There had been a second book with him, he remembered, and sure enough, he managed to extract a book with an unassuming brown cover.  _ Mysticism: Unfathomable Voyage _ , it read. Seeming like as good a starting place as any, Ed cracked it open and began reading.

Despite lacking critical pieces of information for totally understanding what it was about, Ed was gaining a much better picture of what, exactly, magic was supposed to be. It was split up into different schools, but as far as Ed could tell, these were all just different ways of categorizing effects that ultimately stemmed from a common source. Magic was the manipulation of energy — the observation and application of patterns in an energy that permeated the very essence of the world.

He briefly looked up from the book, closing his eyes to focus on the feeling of just  _ being _ . Now that he had more awareness, there was definitely something in the air. It was faint, so faint that Ed wouldn’t have noticed it if he wasn’t looking for it, but it was definitely there. Experimentally, he tried reaching out to it, but his hands simply went through thin air.

His mind wandered back to joining the guild. He had remembered something about the importance of willpower as well as intelligence in the study of magic. He had dismissed it at the time, assuming it to be simply one of a smorgasbord of good traits that all organizations wanted their members to have. But it seemed much more significant now. Steeling himself, Ed reached out his hand again, nearly demanding, with all the willpower he could muster, that the energy obey him.

His hand brushed against a strand, creating a subtle ripple in the field that soon faded. It had worked, but hadn’t Ed always known it would? He had made a demand that had been answered in kind by the world. Equivalent exchange.

He tried a few more times. Each attempt made it just a bit easier, and he was soon able to nearly run his fingers through the mesh of energy around him. As fun as it was to do, though, it was exhausting, and Ed became distinctly aware of the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything in twenty-four hours.

Ed stared back at the spellbook, which was lying open beside him on the bed. “Create Item” was a much more open-ended effect than simply making fire or floating upwards. He raised his hands, trying to feel for the ebb and flow of the energy again.

In his mind, he tried to imagine food. The only thing that he could picture strongly was a sandwich, the kind Al had always made when Ed was too lazy to make anything. Thinking about his brother filled him with an aching loneliness, and he longed to see him again. Lifting his hands, moving them with the energy that surged through the air, he figured that if he couldn’t see Al, this was the next best thing.

A sandwich spontaneously came into existence, complete with a plate. It rested dangerously on the edge of the bed, though, and Ed was just barely able to catch it. Wordlessly, he put it to his mouth and took a bite.

It was slightly warm, with both a distinctly sweet-and-sour aftertaste to it. It made him feel like home. Ed let a few tears fall as he finished it, wrestling with both the powerful nostalgia that had been evoked in him and the absurdity of crying over a sandwich. 

He was left with a plate, and suddenly realized he had no idea what he was going to do with it. Wiping it off with his already-filthy robes, he put it in his bag. You never knew when you needed a plate. Before he could even close the bag, however, the plate vanished in a puff of smoke. Hopefully the sandwich hadn’t just disappeared from his stomach.

While the food and the catharsis had made him feel better, there was still the issue of his clothes. He raised his hands again, ready to complete his task, when he paused. What clothes  _ should  _ he make? He couldn’t make a copy of the ones he normally wore — he needed to fit in, and having a symbol from another universe emblazoned upon a bright red coat was not the best way to go about that. Maybe he should make another robe?

_ That’s ridiculous. I don’t wanna wear a fucking dress.  _

Unfortunately, if Godwyn’s attire was anything to go by, robes might as well be standard dress code for mages. Wearing anything else would probably make him stand out, and not in a good way. Swallowing his pride, Ed decided that, for the time being, he would wear a damn robe.

He closed his eyes, imagining one in his head. He had a great deal of practice with mental design, thanks to alchemy, so this was a trivial task. It would be crimson, of course, albeit with no extra symbols. He didn’t want anything fancy, so the design was plain, looking like something one could find anywhere. Once the image had solidified, he repeated the motion from earlier, concentrating as hard as he could.

There was a sudden sense of weight in his hands, and the sensation of soft fabric upon skin. Sure enough, when he opened his eyes, there it was. It even felt slightly warm, like it had just been washed and left to dry in the summer sun. It reminded him of how his mother used to do laundry. He frowned again, shaking the thought away. 

Of course, even though he had accepted he needed to wear a robe, he wasn’t going to let that be the only thing he wore. He conjured up a simple shirt and a pair of pants — black, of course. He had to make them a bit bigger than he was used to, but the overall design was the same. He also made himself a pair of gloves, out of habit. He had no automail to hide, but he had grown to like having them for their own sake. Standing up in his new attire, he tested his handiwork with a few quick stretches, satisfied with the results.

_ Now I’ve got an outfit,  _ he thought with a bit of pride.  _ Maybe I should see if I could get a shower, too… _

Unfortunately, that would have to wait until after his training. 

* * *

Godwyn, thankfully, was a patient and collected teacher — he almost seemed to be the polar opposite of Izumi, who was quick to resort to corporal and verbal punishment. Luckily, it didn’t take long to learn a few extra spells, mostly because he was only taught two more.

“Thankfully, it seems you already have most of the spells convenient to adventuring,” Godwyn said, his eyes flickering back down to the spellbook briefly.

“‘Adventuring’? Is that an actual occupation?” Ed said with more than a hint of disbelief.

“Hmmm. Though it may seem strange to you, the idea of not knowing what an adventurer is seems just as strange to me. Nevertheless, yes, it is, in fact, an occupation, and a particularly lucrative one.” There was a pause before Godwyn finished his statement. “Unfortunately, demand for adventurers far exceeds the supply, and it is an exceptionally dangerous job.”

_ And I’m the guy who has to do it. Great.  _ Ed wasn’t a fan of the unspoken truth of the situation, but he didn’t have very many options. Besides, he was no stranger to getting involved in highly dangerous pursuits.

“There are many spells that could be helpful to an adventurer, but of course, I’m not running a charity around here.” Godwyn made a dismissive wave of his hands. “However, as I said earlier, there are a few things that I would be remiss if you went off without.”

Ed crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation.

“You have Water Breathing, which is good, but in this harsh winter, drowning isn’t the only danger posed by the water. Water Walking is an even cheaper spell, and of much more utility, provided you don’t have to actually go underwater.”

“Uh huh,” Ed said, already accepting that he wasn’t returning to normality any time soon. “And what’s the other one?”

“The only offensive spell you have in here is Fireball, which is serviceable, but not everything can be hurt by fire.”

Ed’s mind wandered back to the skeleton. “Yeah, I figured that much out on my own.”

“There are a variety of offensive spells out there, but the matter of which one bests suits your taste is a question I can’t answer on my own. I’ll give you the choice of one circinate novice Destruction spell, so you’ll have to choose wisely.”

Ed frowned. “Circinate?”

“My apologies. It means an officially recognized, standard spell, as opposed to a custom one made at a spellmaker.”

Ed’s eyes widened. “If I can make my own spells, why do I have to pay for yours?”

It was Godwyn’s turn to frown. “There are two reasons, actually. The first is that many tasks simply require a circinate spell — a custom one won’t work, even if it has the exact same effect. The second is that a lot of time, money, and research has gone into making the standard spells as efficient as possible. An efficient spell uses less magicka, and a mage without magicka is a dead one.”

He was about to ask what the hell ‘magicka’ was supposed to be, but he had a suspicion he already knew. During that fight with the skeleton, he had felt the yawning emptiness of a reserve deep within him, and afterwards, it had slowly filled back up on its own. That had to have been magicka — the resource a mage calls upon for spells. Now that he was aware of it, he definitely needed to keep a closer eye on it in the future.

There were a lot of options to choose from, and it almost overwhelmed Ed as he considered them. He definitely couldn’t pick anything with fire, but aside from that, he had at least four other elements to choose from. He ruled out poison quickly, as the idea of it made him uneasy, and Daggerfall was so cold that he doubted ice-based magic would be quite as effective against anything living there. The spells that used pure magic seemed a bit too abstract for Ed, and he didn’t feel like he could use them very effectively. Eventually, he settled on Minor Shock. His automail meant he had plenty of experience working with matters of electricity, and giving someone a strong zap had the potential to just knock them out instead of killing them.

“I’m glad we’ve gotten all of this settled,” the old man said, “because I’d like you to get to work as soon as possible. Immediately, if you could.”

“Now?” Ed raised his eyebrows. “What do you need me to do?”

Godwyn sighed, which didn’t inspire a lot of hope in Ed.

“One of our more prominent members has been begging me incessantly for a harpy’s claw. It can’t be any old harpy’s claw, though, oh no — only the  _ finest samples  _ for him. He says there’s one in the Dunore Laboratory, but I’m not going in there myself, of course. Can you go there and get it for me? Normally, you’d be rewarded with a finder’s fee of about five-hundred and thirty-seven gold, but in this case, I’ll be pocketing most of it for your training fees, leaving you with about one-hundred and fifty.”

“I have no idea where that is.”

Godwyn pursed his lips. It looked like he was trying to avoid rolling his eyes.

“Yes, of course. That’s why I’m going to mark it on your map. Give it here, please.”

He put forward a hand, beckoning. Ed was going to tell the man he didn’t have one, until he thought back to the first night he had arrived in Tamriel. He quickly fished the small paper map from his backpack, handing it to the man.

Godwyn stared at it for a second, then briefly tapped a section of the paper. Ed didn’t know what he was trying to accomplish with such a vague gesture, and was about to go off on him when, miraculously, the surface of the map began to change. Its colors melted and swirled, whirling around until they eventually coalesced into a different image. Ed vaguely recognized it as a zoomed-in version of one of the regions that had been in the larger map.

“How did you…?” Ed’s question trailed off as he realized the answer to his own question. Magic. It was always fucking magic. “Is that a mage thing?”

“The map is enchanted, yes, but it is not a ‘mage thing’, as you put it. These maps are standard issue for anyone planning to travel the region. You should become familiar with how it works, or you’ll likely get lost in the wilderness and die.”

Ed didn’t know if he appreciated the bluntness of that statement, but he remained silent, attempting to observe the map further. He could now see there were a variety of colored squares dotting the region, though he was unsure what they represented. Godwyn lightly tapped the surface of the map again, and a small orange square materialized.

“I’ve marked it on your map,” he said plainly, handing the paper back. “If you need to know where a location is or where you are, simply look at it and think about your question.”

He took the paper into his gloved hand, staring at the illustration. He wasn’t sure how his thoughts could influence the map, but at this point, anything seemed possible. Suppressing the silliness he felt, Ed stared at the map. 

_ Where am I? _

Almost immediately, two bright red lines appeared over the map, though Ed got the curious feeling that only he could see them. He saw the lines intersected at a small brown square —  _ Gothway Garden _ , his mind provided instantly. He had no idea how he knew that, but he suspected he didn’t. It must have been the map talking. 

_ Where is Dunore Laboratory?  _ He thought experimentally.

The red lines quickly shifted, highlighting the orange point that had appeared earlier. It was a fair distance away, but Ed got the feeling it would take about 3 days before he actually got there. He wasn’t sure  _ how  _ he knew that, but once again, he figured it was the map.

“I’ll need you to bring me back the ingredient in ten days,” Godwyn said, snapping Edward out of his awe at the map before him. “If it gets past that point, don’t even bother.”

Ed frowned. A three day journey both ways left him with six days gone from his ten day time limit. Four days to search an entire dungeon for a single ingredient didn’t sound like a whole lot of time.

“I know that it seems like you don’t have a lot of time, but there are ways to give yourself an edge,” Godwyn continued, as if reading Ed’s mind. He wouldn’t be surprised if he actually was reading his thoughts, at this point. “You have Teleport. All you have to do is set an anchor and recall yourself once you find what you need. Teleportation is instantaneous, after all.”

His tone of voice made it sound like it was obvious. Ed grumbled. Seven days was a definite improvement over four, but if the man before him was so desperate to get someone else to do the task, he doubted it was going to be a walk in the park.

“Fine, whatever. Give me a sec.”

Casting Teleport was a strange sensation. It felt like something in him had been roughly ripped out and stuck to the floor. Even after the spell was done, he could still feel the spot at the back of his mind, never truly letting him forget it was there. Thinking about it gave him the creeps.

“Well, I’m sure you have your work cut out for you.” Ed could tell when he was being dismissed. With a curt goodbye, he turned on his heel and left the building, feeling the cold winter air slice into his cheeks. Thankfully, his new clothes made the cold feel almost bearable. Taking out the map, he got a vague idea of the route he should take. Thankfully, it looked like he wouldn’t have to go too far out of his way to get to a town to rest at. He made his way to the edge of town, looking out into the wilderness.

As far as he could tell, there were no roads, paved or otherwise, coming in or out of the town. He could see the occasional horseback rider approaching from the distance, or a cart leaving out into the woods, but they seemed to follow a path that only existed in their minds. Ed took a deep breath. He wasn’t fond of walking miles through the snow to get to another town, but he didn’t have the money for a horse, and even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to ride one. He had checked his bag and only found about thirty gold pieces. This would be more than enough for a few stays at an inn, but not for anything more than that. 

Well, there was no use delaying it further. Ed trudged off into the snow, leaving the town behind him. He could only hope that tedium and soreness would be the only thing he’d have to worry about on his journey.

* * *

Roy, through a minor miracle, had managed to convince Hawkeye to let him into the office. She had insisted he stay home at first, of course, but when she heard the level of conviction in his voice, he seemed almost taken aback by his newfound energy. Reluctantly, she decided she would accept his return to work, but only on the condition that he wouldn’t strain himself. Roy felt guilty for lying and saying he would take things easy, but there was no way he would allow him to remain at home any longer, completely powerless to do anything about the homunculus that was currently pretending to be Fullmetal.

Mustang despised the looks of pity he was given as he walked towards Eastern Headquarters, with men of all rank and stripes staring at him like he could fall over and break at any moment. The death glares he shot them got them to look away, but Mustang could still feel their judgement when his back was turned. None of them had any idea what was going on, he thought as he approached his office, so why did they feel the need to treat him like a child?

Unfortunately, his team didn’t seem much better in this regard. Throughout the morning, all of his attempts to make banter seemed to dampen and die immediately. However, Mustang couldn’t blame them. It was only by virtue of the extremely bizarre circumstances he had found himself in that he wasn’t still stricken with grief by the untimely death of Edward Elric. The supposed untimely death, at least. 

The paperwork before him refused to bend to his will, and his mind inevitably wandered back to his decision from last night. Come hell or high water, he needed to tell his team what he had learned, and soon — but given how he was being treated at the moment, would he even be believed? He could see it now: Feury lamenting that he had lost his mind from grief, Havoc and Hawkeye telling him that he should take it easy, Breda and Falman giving him those damn looks of pity. He wouldn’t stand for it. As much as he hated it, he would simply have to wait. He needed to demonstrate that he was sound of mind, that he could be trusted. Once he had that trust back, he would tell them. It was going to take more than a day or two, but he figured that by the end of the week, he would be able to reveal what he had learned. Hopefully, he could think of a plan by then, as well.

It was only a week. With the homunculus safely locked up in the morgue, he could devote his full attention to planning. And paperwork, unfortunately, but when had Roy Mustang ever been known to do his paperwork? 

Glancing up at the clock, he grimaced when he saw he had only been working for ninety minutes. Looks like time was going to make sure to stretch out this week as long as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORE CORNER: MAP  
> The map here works almost identically to the way it does in the game, albeit contextualized in terms of the world instead of gameplay mechanics.   
> ...yeah, not much more to say about it.
> 
> See you on Thursday!


	8. On The Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed makes a break for it, with a bit of help from a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, afternoon, or evening, everyone! I've been having an intense case of writer's block, but thankfully I have a bunch of stuff already written for this fic. College is starting soon, so I may be busy in the near future. Anyway, we finally have some action after lots of talking!

The first leg of the journey had been uneventful, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because Ed didn’t have to worry about any threats to his life other than the occasional wolf or two. A curse, because he was so mind-numbingly bored and tired by the time he arrived in town that he was losing the capability for human thought. When the innkeep had informed him that rooms were five gold a night, it had taken Ed nearly ten seconds to process what he had been told. Thankfully, the man seemed understanding of his travel fatigue, and shuffled him off to his bed. Ed passed out as soon as he had hit the pillow.

Of course, even in his sleep he didn’t get any rest.

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was how dark it was, even after he had opened his eyes. The second was the fact that he couldn’t move. His limbs had been tied down so tightly that he didn’t even have room to wiggle them. 

His first thought had been that he was buried alive, which caused him to start hyperventilating. He slowed when he realized panicking would only use up oxygen, and slowed further when he recognized the cool feeling of metal through the thin fabric of a gown. Generally, dead people weren’t buried on metal plates wearing hospital gowns. Or with all of their limbs tied down, for that matter.

He was definitely back at the morgue — but why was he here? His mind fumbled for an explanation, but the only thing he could think of was how strangely Roy had been acting the previous night. Ed didn’t know how his strange behavior was connected to him being locked up in here, but it was the only thing he had to work with.

Eventually, though, his brain had enough of going in circles, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to figure out what was happening in the outside world without getting out of his prison. Clap alchemy was out of the question, but maybe he could carve a transmutation circle with his automail?

Unfortunately, when Ed tried pressing a finger into the metal beneath him, he found he wasn’t able to make a scratch. He might’ve been able to normally, but being dead for several days had evidently sapped his body of the ability to exert enough energy to make a dent. Ed growled.

If he couldn’t free himself, maybe he could get someone else to let him out.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Somebody let me out of here!”

No matter how much or how hard he shouted, though, nobody came, and eventually his throat was so hoarse from screaming that he doubted anyone could hear his raspy whistle of a voice anyway.

Ed stared at an invisible ceiling, defeated. For the moment, it seemed like he was completely at the mercy of someone else. His heart seemed to tighten as he realized he probably wasn’t going to get to see Alphonse any time soon.

_ Why the hell does this shit always happen to me?  _ Ed thought. He didn’t believe in luck, but if it did exist, he had to be the unluckiest guy in the world. Actually, make that two worlds. After everything that had happened to him, everything that he had managed to live through and come out stronger than ever, here he was, about to lose his mind from sensory deprivation in a morgue after he had been falsely declared dead. 

His self-pity party was interrupted by a sudden clicking noise from somewhere near his feet. He heard the sounds of shuffling and grinding metal, as if something were being undone, until at last the screeching of a hinge announced a flood of pale artificial light into his cell. He was pulled out almost immediately, and suddenly Ed was looking up at a familiar woman.

“You?” His question came out more like an inquisitive rasp than a word, but she seemed to understand all the same.

“Yes, it’s me,” she replied in a whisper. She was far too focused on undoing the restraints on Ed to look him in the eyes. “You’ll have to forgive me. This will only take a few more seconds.”

Once Ed was free, he tried to sit up quickly, but his weakness meant he fell back down just as fast.

“I apologize for this, but we don’t have much time,” Mirriam said. She pulled out a somewhat crumpled set of clothes from what looked like a purse. “Put these on.”

“Why?” Ed’s voice was coming back, ever so slightly, but he didn’t want to attempt anything more than monosyllabic utterances.

“We’re leaving.”

It took him a few seconds to process the meaning of her statement. Once he did, his eyes widened. He sat himself up, slowly this time, and took the clothes as they were shoved into his hands. Turning them over, he realized these were clothes intended for someone quite a few years younger than Ed. He frowned.

“No.”

“Sorry, but we don’t really have much of a choice here. You can either stay locked up with the other bodies, or you can put the clothes on.”

Ed had to admit she made a compelling case. He frowned at the rumpled fabric in his hands for a few moments longer before his shoulders slumped.

“Fine.”

It took him longer than he cared to admit to slip out of his gown and into the clothes — partially because his fine motor skills felt clumsy after several days of switching between two bodies, one of which was dead most of the time, but also because he was embarrassed to strip in front of a woman. Mirriam seemed to notice though, and after casually informing him that she had already seen his naked body, he found himself putting on the rest of his clothes at lightning speed.

“You’re going to follow straight behind me,” she commanded, leading Ed toward the door. 

He nodded mutely. Mirriam put a flat cap on him, the kind Ed often saw paperboys wearing, and pushed the brim to a position that covered his face.

They went through corridor after corridor, with so many twists and turns Ed thought he would throw up. Mirriam tried her best to keep a pace that he could follow, but he still found himself fatigued by the time they reached the lobby.

“Night, Jensen!” a cheery male voice called from somewhere to his left. Ed winced at how loud he was. Unfortunately, the wincing seemed to draw attention to himself.

“Hey, what’s with the kid?” the man said.

“He’s my nephew,” Mirriam lied, with a practiced ease that made Ed wonder. “He snuck in when I started my shift. Said he wanted to see what I do here.”

“Geez, kind of a morbid interest for a kid. Say, buddy, what’s your name?”

“Ummm…” Even if Ed had a fake name thought up, he doubted he could even speak it. Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

“He’s very tired,” Mirriam continued, pulling him closer. “I should really be taking him home.”

“Ah, I see. Well, you two stay safe out there!”

Once the doors had closed behind them, Ed heard an audible sigh of relief from the woman. She quickly escorted him towards a car, and directed him to sit in the back.

Mirriam got in the front and slammed the door shut, and soon, Ed felt the rumbling engine roar to life from under his seat. They drove away from the morgue that felt a bit too fast for Ed’s taste.

“I’m sorry about all of that,” Mirriam said. The bright moonlight glinted off of the metallic parts of the interior, vaguely illuminating the inside of the car. Ed could only see the woman’s eyes from the mirror. “But from what I saw, this was just about the only option we had left.”

“Why’s that?” Ed’s voice was good enough for short sentences now.

“Technically, I’m supposed to be off your case, courtesy of Colonel Mustang’s orders. I agreed with it at the time, but something was seriously bothering me about the way he was treating you.”

The car was filled with silence as they rolled to a stop at an intersection. Mirriam drummed the steering wheel with her fingers. She seemed to take the silence as a signal to continue, as he resumed her story.

“It was like a light switch had been flipped. He became very distant, and seemed to want to treat you like something dangerous.”

Ed frowned. He had never gotten along well with Mustang, sure, but he had never felt he was treated outright antagonistically by the man. Just what was going through his head?

“In any case, I began to worry for what would happen to you. I don’t think I could live with myself if something terrible happened to you because I sat back and did nothing, so here we are.”

“Why do you care so much about a total stranger?” Ed said, his gaze drifting out the window. He thought he saw a large-looking raven, but he blinked, and it was gone.

Mirriam didn’t answer at first. The only sounds that could be heard were the crunch of tires against rode, and the ever-present hum of the engine. When she did speak, it was in a much more somber tone than before.

“I had a child. He died because I was careless. I simply don’t want to see that happen again. Is that a good enough explanation for you?”

In all honesty, it wasn’t, but Ed wasn’t going to pry her for more information about a dead kid. He made a noncommittal humming noise and went back to looking out the window.

Eventually, they slowed to a stop, and parked in front of a house. It looked aggressively ordinary, and in any other circumstance, Ed wouldn’t have given it a second thought as he walked by. Mirriam got out of the car first, then opened the door closest to Ed. Before he could even respond, he was scooped up in Mirriam’s arms, like he was a child.

“Hey!” he tried to yell, ineffectually lashing in her grip. “Don’t treat me like a child!”

She didn’t even dignify him with a reply as she carried him towards her door, kicking without screaming. Mirriam fished out her keys, unlocking the door and stepping inside with a flick of a lightswitch.

Ed thought It looked a bit too large for a single person, but given what the woman had said earlier, he imagined she hadn’t always lived alone. He was unceremoniously laid upon a couch near the door, which Mirriam had quickly locked.

“I’ll be keeping you in an unused bedroom for now,” she stated nonchalantly. “It’s not the most comfortable place, but I can’t imagine it’s any worse than the morgue.”

“You seem pretty casual,” Ed mumbled, shifting on the sofa, “about doing something so illegal.”

“I’d take a guilty verdict over a guilty conscience any day, Mr. Elric. Would you like something to eat?”

Ed’s gaze drifted down to the rug. “Not hungry.”

“Suit yourself.”

Ed didn’t know how long they sat there, with him on the couch and Mirriam making a very late dinner, but at some point, he drifted away from the world and into another.

* * *

The rest of the trip had been a blur. Two more days of traveling that went about as well as the last, followed by quick sojourns to Mirriam’s house. Sitting alone in a bedroom and doing nothing was dreadfully boring, though, so he had taken to reading whatever books he could find around the house. Most of them were medical textbooks, and although he was already intimately familiar with the composition of a human body, he read them anyway, simply because he had nothing else to do.

Ed didn’t know what was greater once he finally arrived at Dunore Laboratory, his dread or his relief. The snow had done a great job covering the entrance, leaving only an innocuous looking mound with a worn wooden door as evidence that anything was there at all. He got the feeling that what was inside would be anything but small, however, so he braced himself as he entered, preparing for the worst.

The universe wasted no time in proving him right, as the first thing he saw as he entered was a group of three imps, which immediately lunged at him as he entered. Dodging out of the way, he quickly grabbed one by its grubby little hand and shocked it, watching with satisfaction as it sizzled and dropped to the floor, dead. Thankfully, its cohorts seemed to know how to pick their fights, as they scattered off deeper into the lab, hopefully to never be seen again.

He looked around at his surroundings, and felt his lips curl downwards in disgust. There were a variety of metal chains and hooks up against the walls, in addition to a metal operating table placed ominously in the middle of the room. He doubted anything good had transpired in this room, but he had to look around out of obligation anyway.

It was about this time that Ed realized he had no idea what a harpy’s claw looked like.

_ Okay, calm down _ , he said, not doing a very good job at calming down,  _ it can’t be too difficult to find. Just look for a claw. _

Sadly, there didn’t seem to be anything of value in the room, save for a few gold pieces and some other ingredients that looked like they might be of some value. Gathering them up in his bag, he set off deeper into the lab, steeling himself for what he might find.

Ed was beginning to think the architects here had all gone insane. What the hell was wrong with this place? There was no rhyme or reason to the layout of anything, and corridors and rooms just seemed to grow around him like the place was alive. He wouldn’t even be surprised if that were true.

After rounding another corner that led to several dead ends, Ed was at his wit’s end. At this point, he should really just start from scratch at the beginning. He turned around to go back, but froze.

Where  _ was  _ the entrance? How many turns and steps had it been that had taken him here? How many corners had he rounded to get to this place? An icy feeling spread through his gut as the realization hit him.

_ I’m fucking lost. _

_ Now  _ was the time to panic. Taking in shallow gulps of air, Ed scrambled back, hoping to find some trace that proved he was on the way back. Unfortunately, all that met him was an endless cascade of identical looking halls and rooms. It felt like he was running in circles — which he realized he was, after passing a room that he had definitely gone by four times before.

Ed stopped running, leaning against a wall. Trying to calm himself, he rationalized that he wasn’t truly lost, as he still had the ability to Teleport out whenever he wanted. It would mean taking an extra three days out of his schedule, but that was a manageable setback.

But was that true? Just how long had Ed been down here, looking for this thing? It should’ve only been a few hours, but maybe it was days. 

_ Okay, calm down. _ He lightly slapped his face.  _ If you had been down here for days, you would have needed to eat by now. Get a grip. _

Something about this place was putting him on edge. If he kept panicking like this, there was no way he would get anything done. He needed to decide on a set of rules for navigating this place.

Picking the left wall, he decided that he was going to follow it. He remembered reading something about maze traversal, and about how picking a wall and following it was an effective method. It wasn’t perfect, given that this place was three-dimensional and not a flat maze, but it was a better plan than running around like a chicken with his head cut off.

Ed maneuvered through a staggering number of corridors and rooms, amazed at how deep the place went. He would have thought he was going in circles if not for the fact that he continuously hit downwards ramps without a corresponding increase in altitude later. It was a feat of human ingenuity — but Ed wasn’t sure the effort had been well-placed.

His musings were interrupted by a bone-chilling scream. He whipped his head around, and heard the clacking of bone against tile from somewhere down the hall and around the corner.

_ Oh, God damn it!  _ Ed hissed. There was nowhere nearby he could hide, and even if there was, there was no guarantee it would do much good. For all he knew, skeletons could smell human fear. He was going to have to fight it, unless he thought quickly.

His scattered gaze looked up toward the ceiling, and he noticed there was a sizable hole in it over the bottom of the ramp. He could easily fit through it, and he doubted the skeleton would be able to follow him. It would destroy his left-hand traversal strategy, but that was a small price to pay for not having to deal with that fucking thing.

With a quick Levitate, he was crawling on the ceiling, making his way up an inverted ramp. He quickly pulled himself through the hole, just in time to see a flash of white and hear another awful screech. It sent a chill down his spine, but he was safe.

… At least, he thought he was, until he poked his head into the room above him.

Something was standing there, but Ed’s mind refused to process it at first. It looked like it should have been a person, but it was far too large, too uneven, too  _ wrong  _ to be human. It had what looked like giant metal stitches keeping it together, and the low moaning sounds it made were animalistic, sounding more like a cow than anything. Ed seemed to have gotten its attention with his entrance, and it turned to face him.

Ed let out a strangled cry. 

The only word Ed’s scrambling brain could produce to describe its visage was “shifted” — like it had been torn or melted off, then sloppily rearranged and stapled back into place. One of its eyes seemed to bulge from its socket far too much, while the other was receded into the flesh. The gaps where this horrible jigsaw failed to meet had visible patches of bone and viscera showing from beneath the metal stitchwork.

Ed tried to run, but his feet only hit air, and he ended up sending himself into a back wall, hitting it hard. The impact made him see stars, but he blindly felt along the wall anyway, hoping he would find a gap and an exit would reveal itself. The thing was starting to lumber towards him, and he could feel his heart hammering into his throat.

Out. He had to get out. He had to get away from whatever the hell that thing was supposed to be. His hands passed through thin air, and he scrambled through the newfound exit, blinded by fear. Any pretense of navigation was lost.

He had no idea how long he fled for, but the levitation spell soon ran out, laying him out unceremoniously upon the filthy stone and tile floor. It made Ed ache all over, but he couldn’t afford to just lie there. That thing might catch up with him, after all.

He staggered to a wall, bracing himself against it. Where could he go? He was staring at a four-way intersection, and to his horror, he realized he had no idea which way he had come from. Any of the paths before him could lead back to that horrid monster.

He shook his head. He needed to breathe. Hadn’t he said before he couldn’t afford to panic? This was exactly what he was worried about. Now he was more lost than ever, with at least one unnatural monster — and likely many more — chasing him down, eager to tear him limb from limb. With no better options forthcoming, however, he simply decided to continue following the left wall, hoping for the best.

As he sidled along the wall, he cursed Tamriel for its undead abominations. Why was desecration of the dead such a common activity here? Human transmutation had been outlawed back in Amestris, but here, it seemed almost encouraged. He would have some choice words with Godwyn when he got back to the Mages Guild. If he got back.

More exploration went by at a pace Edward had given up keeping track of. Time seemed to get fuzzy here, with hours turning to minutes and seconds turning to days. For all he knew, he was farther away from his goal than ever. He had a few more encounters with imps, but a few well-placed fireballs and shocks were enough to take care of them.

For how hellish the place was, though, he had to admit it was as lucrative as Godwyn had made it out to be. Gold seemed to spill from every loose container or pile that Ed kicked over, and even the small beasts sometimes carried a few coins (though he didn’t want to think too hard about why or how). Eventually, he came to a downwards ramp. He had already seen literally dozens of them at this point, but this one led into a body of water. Ed got to his knees, trying to see under the surface. He squinted, but it was simply too dark to see. If only he had some sort of—

He nearly smacked himself. Magic. Duh. He cast Light, and a small ball appeared a few feet off the ground. It didn’t seem to give off any heat, but it illuminated all the same.

Looking downwards, Ed could now see that the system of corridors seemed to extend farther down past the surface. It was possible this place had been flooded, and whatever he was looking for was down there. He sighed. It seemed as good an opportunity as any to test Water Breathing.

He was on his knees, staring at the water, and he realized for the first time that he was able to get a good look at his own reflection. The structure of his face didn’t seem much different, maybe a bit more angular, but other notable changes were apparent. His eyes, for instance, didn’t seem to be a warm gold, but something that looked bright green, although it was hard to tell the exact color. His hair was much longer, spilling over his shoulders and cascading down his back. His eyes had a sunken look to them, but that was probably more from current events than anything else.

Putting his appearance aside, he found himself nervous to put his head under the surface. At this point, he had no reason to believe that magic  _ wasn’t  _ real, but breathing underwater still struck him as particularly fantastical. Plus, if he was wrong, he had a lot more to worry about than a blow to his pride. Drowning, for one thing.

That’s when a shrieking noise distantly echoed from somewhere nearby. The skeleton had made the choice for Ed, as he quickly dove into the water without a second thought.

He kicked and paddled through the water for as long as he could without breathing, until his lungs finally won out and forced him to inhale deeply. Instead of being filled with choking water, however, he instead felt the cold, refreshing sensation of oxygen.

“Fucking weird,” he tried to stay, but it came out more like a series of angry bubbles.

Navigating underwater was a far worse proposition, giving that his movement was restricted, his visibility was shot, and he knew there was a timer ticking down on his ability to keep breathing. It wasn’t all bad, as the water was thankfully a hair under lukewarm instead of being bone-chilling, and there didn’t seem to be any monsters. Yet.

Swimming into yet another room, he was expecting more of emptiness, but that’s when he saw it, sitting on a table, faithfully illuminated by the magelight that dutifully followed him through the watery labyrinth.

A large brown claw, carefully swaddled in cloth. There was no doubt in Ed’s mind as to what it was. Swiping it up and putting it in his backpack, which had seemed to be protected by some sort of charm against water damage, he hastily readied Teleport, when he was hit by a realization more chilling than the blizzard outside.

He was out of magicka.

He had no idea how much more time he had left to breath water before that ran out, either.

There was no time to even think. He scrambled outwards, trying desperately to retrace his steps in his mind. Halfway through what he thought was the way back, his throat was slammed by a violent sensation, and his mouth slammed shut. 

His vision was going blurry, and from somewhere past a long-forgotten corner, a looming, moving shadow emerged. It glided towards Ed with the relaxed confidence of a predator, ready and willing to kill him. He saw something glowing, and he realized the beast was casting a spell. So people weren’t the only ones who could use magic, Ed thought through a delirious haze as he waited for the attack that would end his life.

When the attack hit him, there was no pain, and Ed briefly thought he had died, until he realized another fact. Somehow, his magicka had returned to him. Almost instinctively, his hands raised to Teleport away, and the last thing he saw before a flash of black was a barrage of tentacles and pincers bearing down on the place he had been.

He fell hard against the floor, retching up water. His clothes were soaked, and from the darkness around him, it looked like it was the middle of the night. Ed was silently grateful that nobody was around to see him vomiting up water and trying not to cry. He shuddered. The water was growing colder, and he needed to dry off before he caught something. 

_ I said I needed a shower, but I didn’t quite mean it like that…  _ Ed thought as he pushed himself up slowly, trying not to slip on the puddle that had been created by his dramatic entrance. There was still an uncomfortable pain in his lungs, but he would deal with that later. He lurched towards the beds, feeling ready to collapse at any moment.

After looking around the room, he finally found a spare bucket sitting forlorn in the corner. Once he managed to wrench himself out of his clothes with great effort, he began to squeeze the water into the bucket, enjoying the cathartic feeling of wringing the hell out of something. He imagined his hands around the Colonel’s neck. Despite how much he was shaking, he felt his lips quirk upward in a fierce grin.

The clothes were still damp, but he would manage. For now, though, he needed to get some sleep. As he waited for darkness to overtake him, he hoped that his experience in the laboratory was the worst he’d face, but he had the growing feeling that things had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORE CORNER: BESTIARY I  
> A few monsters appear in this chapter that aren't given a name. The first is a flesh atronach. An atronach is essentially an elemental, material given sentience and a human form. In this case, "flesh" is a valid element. Flesh atronachs only appear in Daggerfall, whereas the later games only used the more traditional variants (ice, fire, storm).  
> The second one is a dreugh, which is the monster that appeared in the water. Dreughs are actually a fairly interesting creature, because they seem to have intelligence comparable to the civilized races of Tamriel, along with their own society and culture. There are theories that they may have been remnants of Lyg, which is the world that came before Nirn. Mundus is in a constant cycle of worlds being created and then later destroyed by Alduin, where each of these worlds is called a kalpa. The metaphysics of this isn't really relevant to an entry about monsters, though, so I'll leave it at that.


	9. Leap Of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed swallows his pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Sorry for posting this chapter a bit late, real life stuff came first. As a warning, this chapter contains references to partial nudity. If it seems slightly gratuitous... that's because it kind of is, but it's how it was in the game, so oh well.

After an uneventful night at Mirriam’s, he awoke, painfully aware of the uncomfortable feeling in his lungs and the general sensation of shittiness that washed over him. His clothes were still damp, although less so, and though he knew he should get some new ones, the last thing he wanted at the moment was to move. He opened his mouth to groan, but what came out was more of a strangled gurgle. Despite feeling like death, Ed willed himself out of bed, shuffling off towards his employer. When he saw Godwyn, he held his head up high, marching forward in the best display of confidence he could muster.

Unfortunately, the facade was broken when his left foot collided with the back of his right leg, sending him tumbling to the ground. His jaw smashed against the stone, and Ed was lucky not to have severed his tongue completely. Yeah, lucky. He would have snorted at the thought if he weren’t more concerned with the fact that he was currently lying at Godwyn’s feet.

“You’re back,” the old man said. He didn’t seem very surprised. “Be careful, by the way. The floor is slippery.”

“Thanks,” Ed spat, bringing himself up to his feet. He was glad that he was able to look Godwyn dead in the eye without bending his neck back.

If Godwyn noticed the dampness in Ed’s clothes, he didn’t comment.

“Do you have the claw?”

Without replying, Ed opened his backpack and fished it out. He half-expected it to be gone, still down there somewhere in the damn dungeon, but thankfully it was safe and sound in his hands. The old man looked it over for a few seconds, examining it, then looked back to Edward.

“This is indeed what I asked for. Very good. Here’s your 150 gold, as promised.”

He pulled out a small burlap sack, which jingled slightly as it moved. Ed took it eagerly, though his fingers fumbled slightly. This meant he could probably take care of his basic needs for a month or so, assuming he stayed at inns the whole time.

Godwyn looked him over, frowning. “You don’t look very well. Did you catch something?”

Ed put his hands on his hips. “How would I know?”

“Point taken.” He considered the point for a few moments longer. “Either way, you should get it checked out. You might have caught something during your adventure.”

Ed very much objected to his horrible experience in the laboratory being described as an “adventure,” but he realized the man might have been on to something. God knows what terrible diseases monsters or the undead held, and he had had more than his fair share of contact with the two in the past week or so. 

“Okay, I will,” he said, staving off the woozy, fuzzy feeling in his head, “but I need you to answer some questions.”

“I will answer to the best of my ability.”

“Okay, first off,” he began, crossing his arms, “I got hit with a spell or something down there, but it didn’t do anything to me. In fact, I felt rejuvenated, like I had been given a surge of magical energy, or something.”

“Oh, that’s an easy one.” Godwyn looked relieved at being given such a softball question. “That’s spell absorption.”

Ed narrowed his eyes. 

“Sorry, right, an explanation. Some people naturally have the ability to resist or absorb magical energy, which means they aren’t affected by the spell’s intended effect, either to a partial or complete degree. Bretons naturally resist magic, but I suppose you must have absorption on top of that. Hmmm, though there hasn’t been much research done into the interaction between the two… I wonder…” Godwyn looked like his mind was wandering to speculate, so Ed decided to cut him off before he was stuck listening to a lecture he didn’t care about.

“Sure, fine. I have a different question.” The old man was snapped back to the present, now looking intently at Edward.

“In that lab, there was…” Ed shuddered as he tried to recall what the thing had looked like. “It looked like a person, but there was no way it could have been one. It was like all of its flesh had been stapled together…”

Godwyn paused to think for a second. “Oh, I know what you’re talking about. Those are flesh atronachs.”

Ed blinked. “What?”

“You know… well, I suppose you _wouldn’t_ know, but an atronach is an elemental, a sentient manifestation of some sort of fundamental material.” His hands began moving as he launched into his explanation. “Your typical varieties are of the fire or storm variety, but recently, we’ve been seeing metal atronachs, and, of course, flesh atronachs. They’re frowned upon by the Mages Guild, as is all necromancy, but—”

“Wait.” Ed raised his hands, interrupting the man. “Necromancy?”

“It’s what I suppose you could call an ‘unofficial’ school of magic.” His face contorted into a grimace. “However, it’s strictly prohibited by the Mages Guild, given that it involves the creation of the undead and generally meddling in the domain of death.”

“Ah.” Ed didn’t know if his stomach was lurching from sickness or disgust. The idea that there was an entire community of people looking into bringing the dead back… he wanted to throw up. “I see.”

“You really don’t look well. Do you need me to tell you where the nearest temple is?”

“Fine. Just — wait.” Ed paused. “Why would I go to a temple?”

“They have healing services there,” Godwyn replied, looking a bit exasperated, “it’s easier and cheaper than finding a mage to heal it for you.”

Ed didn’t like the idea of turning to religion to deal with illness. It went against everything he had ever believed. Yet Godwyn seemed like a fairly rational person, and Ed doubted he was the type to believe something without solid proof. 

“Fine. Whatever. Let me get this over with.” Admitting defeat, Ed pulled out his map and handed it over.

“Good. There’s a Temple of Kynareth here in Gothway Garden. It’s quite an ornate building, you shouldn’t be able to miss it.”

“…who’s Kynareth?”

Godwyn looked up at him with a look that was half dread, half annoyance.

“I’m not going to sit here and explain the entire religious system of the Divines. I would, quite literally, be here all day. If you really want to know, ask the nice people down at the Temple. I’m sure they’d be _elated_ to tell you all about it.”

Ed scowled. He doubted he’d get a very unbiased explanation of the religion from its own followers.

“I don’t need to hear every single detail. Just give me the short version.”

“The short version would already take a day. The long version would be several years of dedicated theological study.” Godwyn looked like he was getting fed up. “Go to the Temple. I don’t want to catch whatever you have.”

This illness certainly wasn’t winning him any friends. He snatched the map back, and with a death glare, he marched out of the Guild, looking for the Temple. 

Ed seethed as he walked down the street. He realized just how passive he had been since he had come to Tamriel, numbly going along with whatever anybody told him. Well, he wasn’t going to let himself be a sucker any longer, that’s for sure. He’d get himself cured, but he wouldn’t let himself be converted to some weirdo religion from another universe. If he did, he’d know for sure he’d really lost his sanity.

Just as Godwyn said, the building was ostentatious, standing out like a sore thumb. Ed had to wonder how religions that preached charity and giving to the poor always managed to find the money for so many grand buildings. Biting down a growl, he threw open the door to the Temple, marching in.

The first thing that hit him was the overpowering smell of incense. He actually staggered back, his hands leaping up towards his nose in a futile attempt to stave off the fumes. He blinked, and he could feel a small but sharp sting pulling small tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Ed said, trying his best to minimize how much he was breathing in. For all he knew, he was going to get second-hand smoke if he stayed here too long. Was this seriously his best choice for a doctor in this backwards-ass land? Ed didn’t know what was worse: this or a hospital.

The second, somehow even more alarming thing that caught Edward’s attention was the… less than modest attire he was seeing on the ladies. Of course, Ed was no misogynist, and he supported women being able to wear whatever they wanted. However, when they didn’t want to wear anything at all, it was hard not to stop the blush that crept across his face.

Ed was beginning to wonder if he had accidentally stepped into a whorehouse instead when a woman standing near the entrance noticed him. She stepped forward with outstretched arms and a large grin, and none of his attempts to inch away deterred her from hugging him.

“Welcome, traveler,” she said, her voice seeming to linger on every syllable, “to the Temple of Kynareth. Or Kyne, if you prefer.”

“I have a disease!” Ed replied hysterically. “It might be contagious!”

“Ah, I see.” The woman sounded a bit saddened. She retracted, but far too slowly for Ed’s liking. He wrangled out of her grip, eyeing the woman warily. “Well, the healing services are in the back. Have a wonderful day!”

Ed wished he could be killed on the spot. Gathering up the few remaining shreds of his dignity, he pushed forward into the temple. 

He entered into a larger main room, with two smaller rooms branching off at the back. It was far different from the restrained and silent atmosphere he vaguely remembered from Cornello’s church. Not just for the scantily-clad women everywhere — seriously, was there something in the water around here? — but the garish turquoise and gold that adorned every surface. A small altar sat between the entrances of both rooms, carved from a light pink stone that Edward could only compare to the color of cough medicine. A priest, or someone Ed assumed was a priest, was standing behind it. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be as much the touchy-feely type, as he merely gestured to the right.

“Healer’s over there.” As if to answer Ed’s follow-up question, he continued. “You look pale. I can tell a sick man when I see one.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Ed said curtly as he stepped through the door. Another woman, thankfully wearing a shirt, was at the back, lounging on a comfortable looking chair, looking distracted by her own thoughts. Wanting to get things over with as soon as possible, he made a fake coughing noise, loud enough to get the lady to jolt back to reality.

“Are you the healer?” The question felt a bit stupid, but he wanted to make sure he wasn’t about to get baptized into some cult.

“Oh! Yes, yes I am! Please, come forward. I can see you don’t look very well.”

_If I was, why would I be here?_ Ed groused to himself as he stepped forward. He decided to keep the comment to himself, since he was currently placing his health in the woman’s hands.

“Hmmm… if I had to guess…” She looked over Ed. Silently, he hoped she wouldn’t make him take anything off for an examination. Just because everyone else here liked to be topless didn’t mean he did as well. “Have you had any encounters with the undead recently? Also please, have a seat.” She motioned towards an open chair to her right, which Ed gladly took.

“Yes, actually,” he said, sitting down, “quite a fucking lot, as it turns out.” 

He froze up. Oh, shit, this was still a temple. Thankfully, the woman didn’t seem fazed by his language, and she continued to have a distant, enigmatic expression.

“I see… would it have been at any point in the last week?”

“Yes,” Edward replied curtly. He was beginning to feel like the woman already knew what the problem was and was just beating around the bush.

“Well, then, I think I can say what you might have,” she replied with a slight flourish of her hands, “a rather standard case of the Chills.”

“What are the symptoms?” 

“Typically? Let’s see…” She put a finger to her chin, trying to recall. “Loss of hand-eye coordination, abnormal clumsiness, brain fog, fatigue, irritability, sensitivity to sensory stimuli, and an inability to concentrate. Do any of those sound applicable?”

Ed’s mind wandered back to when he had tripped earlier, and reflected on the awful feeling that still permeated his bones. “It might be ringing a few bells. Can you cure it?”

“Yes, it’s a fairly common disease. It’s a good thing you caught this early, since the effects get much worse over time. All I need is ten gold.”

He frowned. It wasn’t much money at all, sure. In fact, it was a bargain compared to some of the outrageous medical bills he had seen in his various and often involuntary hospital stays. He still felt it was slightly more money than he could just thoughtlessly hand over, but his health was something he could afford to make expenditures on. He handed over the gold, which the woman gladly accepted.

“Excellent. Now, I want you to close your eyes, and try to free the feeling of tension from within you.”

“Why?”

“It will make the process of healing you much more pleasant. If the body is tense and puts up resistance, it creates sensations that are less than pleasant.”

Ed thought it more likely that she didn’t want to reveal trade secrets, but he complied anyway, closing his eyes and trying to relax. A few seconds passed, then a few seconds more. Ed wondered if anything was going to happen until a powerful wave washed over him.

At first, Ed thought it was the same as the healing magic he had cast on himself, but he could feel there were subtle differences. His healing was something that could best be described as flesh-mending. It had been numbing and anodyne, as if shielding him from how painful such a process would really be by wrapping him in a warm and fuzzy safety blanket.

This was the opposite. It was like his body had burst to life with sensations and perceptions Ed didn’t think were possible, giving him a total awareness of every cell in his body. There was definitely something in him that wasn’t supposed to be there, and it needed to be purged. His body, in perfect synchronization with itself, buzzed to life, mercilessly eliminating every trace of the bacteria. He felt a sudden, funny sensation bubbling to life in his stomach, fizzing like soda-water. His throat contracted, and he suddenly realized that this was a much more familiar sensation.

He opened his eyes, and saw to his great relief that a bucket had been placed in front of him. With all the grace that a vomiting person could muster, he whipped his head forward and hurled.

Wordlessly, the woman offered him a rag which he took gratefully. He silently wiped his mouth, sitting up straighter in his seat. He didn’t think he had gotten any on his clothes, but with how damp and dirty they were already, they were overdue for a good cleaning.

“I assumed this is your first time getting a disease?”

Ed’s eyes widened a bit, and he stared at the woman. “How did you know?”

“Most people don’t throw up in reaction to a simple Cure Common Disease spell,” she explained, “unless they’ve never experienced it before.”

“Ah.” Well, that would do it. Ed turned his gaze away, feeling more than a bit embarrassed at this point. “Can I go?”

“Of course. Just remember to be careful. If you do get sick again, be sure to stop by as soon as possible!”

“Whatever,” he said with a dismissive wave. Thankfully, nobody tried to get too close to him on the way out, probably because everyone had heard his retching from earlier. Not his finest moment, but if it got people to stay the hell away from him for a bit, he’d take it.

As Edward walked back to the Guild, he had to admit he felt leagues better. It was like a fog had been dispelled from his mind, making everything a bit clearer. Once he reached the housing quarters of the Guild, he made sure to take care of the needs he had been sorely neglecting for far too long, which included a hot bath and a good cleaning of his clothes. Getting all of the grime out of his hair had taken hours, and he swore his head was a few pounds lighter once he had finished.

He sat alone on the bed he had claimed for himself, going through his backpack. He had some stuff he could sell, but he could take care of that later. He pulled out the letter from earlier, going over it once more. Reading over it, it was clear he needed to make his way to the capital, to deal with whatever issue was going on with the ghost.

Except… Ed lowered the paper, frowning to himself. Why should he be doing any of this? He didn’t know who the Emperor was, or why he should be out here doing his dirty work. He had done that job for Godwyn because he needed money and resources to try to get home, but how was investigating a ghost going to get him back home?

He flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Well, assuming he did his job and reported back, he would probably get some sort of reward, which he might be able to leverage to find a way back. It wasn’t a guarantee, but Ed decided the Emperor probably had deeper pockets than some random mage in the middle of nowhere. He tossed over.

Still… It was probably going to take a long time to figure out a way back, as much as Ed hated to admit it. He didn’t even fully understand all the details of the situation, let alone a potential approach to get things back to the way they were. His situation back in Amestris was… tenuous, to say the least. Mirriam was sheltering him, sure, but that could only last so long before his week was up and they realized his body had gone missing from the morgue. Even if he managed to temporarily tether himself back to his world for an extended period of time, Mustang had been so disbelieving of his explanation that he seriously doubted the man would let him just walk up and explain things. If only there was a way to get Mustang to see for himself that Ed was telling the truth.

Ed sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, it looked like he might need to ask Godwyn about this. There weren’t many resources he had access to at the moment, especially when he had learned the library was off-limits for members of lower rank, which had caused him to nearly fight the man. There wasn’t a guarantee he’d know anything, but a slim chance was still better than none.

Approaching the man with as much confidence as he could muster, Ed stood up straighter.

“What is it?” Godwyn asked, eyeing him over. “Do you need more work?”

“No, actually, I had a question I wanted to run by you.”

The man folded his arms.

“Well, today has been an exceptionally slow day, so I suppose I can indulge you.”

Ed frowned. There was almost never anyone in here at any point, so he didn’t know how the old geezer decided when things were busy or not, but he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Hypothetically, if I wanted to communicate with another world, how would I go about it?”

Godwyn thought for a second. “Have you ever heard of the Dreamsleeve?”

Ed gave him a look.

“I suppose you wouldn’t. It’s probably good if I teach you about this, actually…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (My spell checker is really not a fan of all these fantasy terms. My "add to dictionary" button has taken quite the beating.)  
> LORE CORNER: THE EIGHT DIVINES  
> In Daggerfall, the primary objects of religious worship are the Eight Divines, or the Aedra. Each has both a temple faction and militaristic knightly order associated with them, so I'll put the names of those along with their description:
> 
> -Akatosh, the dragon god of time and head of the pantheon. (Akatosh Chantry/Order of the Hour)  
> -Arkay, the god of birth and death. (Order of Arkay/Knights of the Circle)  
> -Dibella, the goddess of beauty. (House of Dibella/Order of the Lily)  
> -Julianos, the god of logic. (School of Julianos/Knights Mentor)  
> -Kynareth, the goddess of air. (Temple of Kynareth/Kynaran Order)  
> -Mara, the mother goddess. (Benevolence of Mara/Maran Knights)  
> -Stendarr, the god of mercy. (Temple of Stendarr/Crusaders)  
> -Zenithar, the god of commerce. (Resolution of Z'en/Knights of Iron)
> 
> Each of them have a lot more to them, but getting into the intricacies of them all would take way more space than I have here, so I'll just cover some general facts.  
> -Readers more familiar with later games may wonder why Talos isn't here. The real reason is "they hadn't thought of him yet," but the in-universe answer is probably stem from the fact that Talos is Tiber Septim, who conquered High Rock. Therefore, most of the locals aren't too fond of him, although Tiber's Day is a celebrated holiday. Tiber Septim himself is quite relevant to the plot of Daggerfall, but I'm getting ahead of myself.  
> -Most of the Divines were named after playtesters and prominent community members of the Elder Scrolls. For example, "Akatosh" is actually an acronym, standing for "Also Known As The Old Smaug Himself". Smaug was the online nickname of beta tester Lawrence Szydlowski. A more obvious example is Dibella being named after Mary Jo DiBella, another beta tester. The only Divine not named after a tester is Kynareth, who was mentioned in some flavor text in Arena.  
> -The word Aedra translates to "our ancestors," as opposed to Daedra, which translates to "not our ancestors". Since Daedra didn't tether themselves to creation, they weren't trapped and weakened like the Aedra were, but they are forced to influence the world indirectly, which normally involves convincing mortals to do their dirty work. This makes them analogous to demons in other settings, although they aren't quite the same.
> 
> There's a lot more I could put here, but I'll leave it at that for now. Thanks for reading, and see you on Thursday!


	10. Out Of Alignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed is misunderstood, and turns to an unlikely ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good [READER_TIME_OF_DAY], everyone! This chapter should be pretty exciting! At least I hope it is... anyway, without further ado...

The Dreamsleeve, as it turned out, was a method of long-distance, instantaneous magical communication. Ed suddenly knew why Godwyn was busy despite the distinct lack of visitors — a network of telepathic communications from all across the kingdom was enough to keep anyone occupied. Ed had no idea if it could help him communicate across worlds, but it was as good a start as any. Certainly much better than nothing, at least.

Godwyn had claimed it took years of study to learn how to tap into the Dreamsleeve, but Ed was apparently a quick learner, because by the end of the day he could call Godwyn a batty old codger from the safety of his room.

_ Don’t forget that the Guild lodgings are a privilege, not a right,  _ the man had shot back without missing a beat. Ed decided he liked having a place to sleep more than making fun of the man, so with great remorse, he decided he would use his powers for good, not evil.

Entering the Dreamsleeve took a level of constant concentration. Even the slightest wavering would sever any communication. The amount of concentration was a function of distance — the farther away your target, the more concentration was needed. For reaching somebody close enough to be in the same building, it was trivial, at least for Ed, but somebody in another world was going to be another matter entirely. Thankfully, his automail installation had taught him a thing or two about deep concentration, and he felt up to the task. After all, trying not to lose your mind while having every nerve in your arm screaming for death took a significant level of mental fortitude.

But who should he try to contact? Obviously, it should be someone close to him, that he trusted, and that he wouldn’t be able to talk to otherwise. His mind immediately leapt to Alphonse. Al was his brother, after all, and if anyone would understand, it would be him. However, what if him being a soul bound to a suit of armor messed things up? What if Al didn’t believe a voice in his head claiming to be his brother? The thought filled him a desperate sort of dread that he was quick to push out of his mind. Panicking wasn’t going to make this any easier.

Winry? Maybe. She was a down-to-earth person, but she had always been there for the brothers through their hardest trials. However, while she was a good friend, she was just an automail mechanic, and with no particular talent for alchemy and no sway in the military, he doubted she would be able to convince anyone to do much.

Mustang? Ed nearly gagged. The last thing he wanted was to talk to that bastard at the moment, especially given how cold he had become the last time they had a “chat.” But… he was the one who had the most power of the people who he could contact, and if he could get the man to believe him, he would have a tremendous edge. That was a big “if,” however, and there was a very real possibility that he could make things worse.

Ed sighed, wiggling deeper into the covers and closing his eyes. Well, he supposed there wasn’t a rule that he could only talk to  _ one  _ of them, right? Even if one of them thought they were just going crazy, if all three of them heard something, they would have to acknowledge it was more than just a coincidence.

Ed took a deep breath and centered himself. The meditation techniques he had learned during his training with his teacher would be extraordinarily helpful. The world around him faded and returned to nothing, leaving him alone, a single point, infinitely concentrated. He switched gears, turning from the lessons of his old teacher to the technique of a new one, and imagined the point as the tip of a pen tracing a line along an infinitely large canvas. He imagined the movement of the pen, simultaneously creating a path and following it at the same time. The ultimate destination of the line was far away, but the path formed steadily in its direction. He felt himself piercing through unfathomable boundaries as if they didn’t exist, focusing on one thing and one thing only: Alphonse Elric.

* * *

The first few days had been difficult. Unimaginably so. It was like losing his mother all over again, except so, so much worse. Al hadn’t believed it, at first, but his denial had been painfully torn at the sight of his brother’s dead body, lying motionless in the morgue. Even then, his mind lashed against itself, writhing like a man in a straight-jacket, barely comprehending the reality in front of him.

His brother had always been so strong, no matter what. Even when their lives had been violently upturned by the death of their mother, even when they had gone through hell during that failed human transmutation, even when Ed was getting his automail and he was screaming so loud it sounded like he was dying. Through all of that, and so much more, Ed had persevered, facing his trauma and coming out stronger for it. And through all of it, his love for Al had never wavered.

And now it was all gone. Where there had once been a vibrant boy named Edward Elric, with hopes and dreams and promises, there was a great, yawning chasm. Ed had once been the rock of Al’s life, keeping him safe in a vast and stormy ocean. Now, though, the rock was gone, and he felt himself spiraling helplessly into the void created by its absence, destined to sink to the depths.

More than anything, Al wanted to cry, but he was denied even his own tears. He could do nothing but wail from within his armor, which felt more like a cage than it ever had been. If Ed was gone, it was likely he would never be able to get his body back. He would never be able to shed a tear for his brother, doomed to wander the earth as a sick mockery of a human being. 

Winry had been inconsolable as well, which Al darkly appreciated. For a little while, at least, he didn’t need to feel her horrible, pitying stares on him. He didn’t have to try to accept comfort that was not hers to give or his to take. All Al wanted to do was be alone.

He had gone through his brother’s belongings after he had gotten back from the morgue. He had no need to sleep or eat, but the process took several days, as he frequently broke down into tearless sobs that consumed him for hours on end. He had failed to find anything that explained why Ed had died so suddenly, or who could have killed him. Al had never been a great researcher like his brother was, so all of his notes, written in a shorthand that nobody alive could understand, may as well have been blank paper. He kept them, though, as reminders that Ed had existed, and out of a dim, fading hope he could understand them some day.

Eventually, Winry managed to gather up enough composure to ask Alphonse what they should do about the funeral. It didn’t take long for them both to decide that Ed should be buried in Resembool, on the same hill where their mother was buried. He had hoped it could be a quiet, simple process, and that he could simply return to Resembool to mourn and be at peace.

Unfortunately, it seemed like the process would be anything but simple. Not only were they facing pushback from the military, who wanted to handle the Fullmetal Alchemist’s funeral on their own terms, but the morgue, who seemed to want to keep his brother’s body for “observation,” whatever that meant.

It filled Al with unfathomable amounts of rage. Why were they doing this? He had been particularly angry when he learned that Colonel Mustang had the power to waive the responsibility of the funeral over to his family, but had deliberately decided not to. Hawkeye, who had been the one to inform him, seemed just as baffled about the man’s decision as Al was. He wanted to go to him in person to give the man a piece of his mind, but unfortunately, as a civilian, he couldn’t simply barge into Mustang’s office whenever he wanted. His presence was overlooked as long as he wasn’t causing trouble, but trying to wring an officer’s neck was the very definition of causing trouble.

“Besides, I’ve sent him home. He doesn’t seem to be doing very well,” she had said, a vague look of concern clouding her eyes. “It doesn’t seem like it’s just grief, though. Something is bothering me about the way he’s acting.”

“Like what, ma’am?” Al’s gentleness had been tempered by a bit more backbone ever since the passing of his brother. Before, he would have never had the courage to ask something like this so directly.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but…” Hawkeye sighed. “I know how he expresses grief, but there’s something a bit… paranoid about the way he talks.”

“What is he paranoid about?” Alphonse said, trying to press her.

“I’ve already told you enough as it is.” Her gaze hardened for a moment, but it quickly returned to the soft sadness from before. “I’m sorry, Alphonse. I know this must be hard for you.”

“I understand, ma’am. I should be going, anyway.” 

Al turned to leave, but not before one last comment from Hawkeye. 

“I know you don’t need to sleep,” she said, in a quieter tone, “but you should get some rest.”

Al paused for a second. He mumbled something to himself, then left Headquarters, returning to a dorm that wasn’t his.

The Colonel had returned, eventually, but like Hawkeye had said, his uncharacteristic behavior didn’t seem to be a result of just grief. He seemed defensive, like he was biding his time, waiting for an opportunity, though what his plan was, Al couldn’t say. All he knew was that he was still incredibly angry with the man, and even if he couldn’t confront him directly, he could still glare at him in the halls. Winry, who was with him, had taken to doing the same once Al had explained the situation to her.

After a few days of this, Al was just about at his wit’s end. Even once they had dealt with the military, they still needed to get Ed’s body from the morgue, which was a process they hadn’t even begun to deal with. He also suspected that the Colonel had something up his sleeve, and he doubted it would help him with giving his brother a proper burial. In the night, when he was the only soul awake for miles, he wondered if the Colonel was going crazy.

That night would give Al reason to believe that he was going crazy, too.

Soon after the clock had struck midnight, he began to feel… uncomfortable. A suit of armor shouldn’t be able to feel uncomfortable, and it had taken Al a while to realize that was what he was even feeling. The presence of any sensation at all was completely foreign, and he was so engrossed in it that he didn’t notice another one appearing.

For lack of a better description, it was like somebody was applying pressure to his soul. Another presence, something outside him completely, was intruding, getting closer. It was as if something was sitting right next to him. Al looked around, but there was nothing to be seen.

That’s when he heard it.

_ Al? _

His brother’s voice. He had often relived the memories of his brother to hear his voice since he died, but those had been memories — they were covered in a fine shroud of mist, far away, their life long gone.

But he had heard —  _ actually  _ heard — something in his head speaking. And it sounded just like his brother.

_ Shit, wait, please don’t panic!  _ the voice said, which only made Al panic harder. He opened his armor, wondering if someone was hiding inside and playing a sick joke on him, but nothing was in there.

“Who’s there?” he said, standing up and looking around. “Show yourself!”

_ Al, please, it’s me, your brother!  _ The voice was practically begging at this point.

Who could do something like this? Maybe it was Envy, pretending to be his brother to drive him crazy. That didn’t explain why the voice was in his head, but you could never be certain with homunculi. He got into a ready stance, prepared for a fight.

_ I’m not Envy, God damn it!  _ The frustration soon melted into a pleading tone.  _ Please, Al, I need you to help me. _

Al would have grimaced if he was able to.

“Why does a dead person need help?” he said, in a tone low enough not to wake Winry. She had been sleeping in what was Al’s old bed in the dorm, while Al slept in his brother’s bed.

_ I’m not dead, Al!  _

Al was filled with revulsion.

“Liar! I saw him myself. Why are you trying to trick me, Envy? What do you want?”

_ For the last time, I’m not Envy! I know it looked like I was dead, but you have to believe me when I say I’m alive. There’s this alternate world, and— _

But Al had stopped listening. It was clear that whatever this thing was, it was trying to drive him insane. It might not be Envy, necessarily, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a homunculus. With all the power he could muster, Al mentally shouted at the thing.

_ Go away! Leave me alone! _

In an instant, the presence was gone. Al was left alone, ready to fight something that wasn’t there. He stood there for a while, waiting for it to come back, but it never did. Feeling an exhaustion that shouldn’t be possible, Al slumped back down to the bed, staring off at nothing.

What had just happened? What was trying so desperately to pretend it was his brother that it would invade his own mind? Al didn’t feel remotely equipped to answer that question. He slumped even more, wishing for sleep that would never come. 

If only his brother really were here. He would have guided Al, shown him the right path. Without him, he just felt lost, confused, and alone.

With nobody awake to hear him, he sobbed quietly.

* * *

Ed felt a sudden force, like a rubber band that had been stretched too taut was finally released, and he was kicked away, drawn back to his body like he was attached to an elastic string. He buried his face in his hands, gritting his teeth.

It seemed like all he ever did was make things worse. Now he had managed to convince his brother that he was Envy, or some other kind of homunculi impersonator. It was a bitter realization, and it only set off a chain reaction of more terrible thoughts.

Did  _ Mustang  _ also think he was a homunculi? If he tried to look at the situation from the outside, the conclusion made a sickening amount of sense. In fact, if he were in the Colonel’s shoes, he probably would’ve thought the same thing. It just so happened to be completely and utterly wrong. He writhed under his sheets, wracked by more intrusive thoughts.

How was he going to be able to convince anyone of anything at this rate? He had thought a display of the supernatural would prove his point, but all it had done was convince them he was some sort of fucking monster. All the avenues that had seemed open before were violently slammed shut, leaving him at a dead end. Anything he did would just make them think he was a homunculus even more, and that would probably end with getting killed, dissected, or worse. He wouldn’t be able to raise a finger against them if it came to that, because that really would mean he was a monster. Ed was trapped. With all of his plans burnt to ashes before his eyes, he would have to think quickly for a new one.

Ed could feel exhaustion overtaking him, though, and slipped into an uneasy sleep.

Mirriam’s house was uncomfortable in its quietness. Knowing the extent of the danger he was in, Ed suddenly didn’t feel very comfortable having a woman he barely knew housing him. It wasn’t just an issue with the law, now; she could be risking her life. His mind whirled with feeble attempts at planning, but each was shot down quicker than the last. Ed was at the end of his rope. 

“Fuck!” he yelled to the ceiling, reveling in the meager catharsis it provided.

Ed suddenly heard a thudding noise from downstairs. He frowned; Mirriam should still be on her shift now. Was she off work early? Cautiously, Ed crept out of the room and towards the stairs, making himself as silent as possible.

There were more noises coming from below, the sounds of crumpling and ripping paper. It was like a wild animal had gotten in and was rooting through the trash. Ed didn’t let his guard down — the types of animals that broke into homes were practically unheard of in East City, and given everything that had happened in the past week, he had lost his confidence in reasonable explanations.

Ed began to tiptoe down the stairs, cursing the layout of the house for blocking his view of the lower floor with a wall. There was something down there, he knew it. If he could just get low enough to see what was there— 

One of the steps made a creak that sounded more like a dying wail. Even though Ed had frozen in place, the alarm bells going off in his head were deafening, drowning out his capability for rational thought. The noises downstairs had stopped, too, and it seemed as though time had frozen still.

A few moments ticked by. Maybe he hadn’t been heard. Perhaps it was a coincidence.

“Well, well, well…” A familiar drawl snuffed out the irrational hope that had fluttered in his heart, like a predator hunting its prey. “What do we have here?”

Every word was slathered in a nauseating mixture of disdain, anger, and self-satisfaction. It could only belong to one person. Someone who wasn’t a person at all.

“If it isn’t the Fullmetal pipsqueak!” Envy said, sauntering towards the stairs. Ed leapt backwards, quickly transmuting his arm into a blade. The homunculus put up its hands, but its smug expression showed it was still in control.

“Why, I’m hurt! What’s wrong, brat? Afraid?” Envy cocked his head to the side, his grin spreading wider to resemble a Cheshire cat.

“Why are you here?!” Ed yelled, his voice hoarse from lack of use. He was really getting sick of how frail his voice sounded these days. Envy, though, thought it was hilarious, because he threw back his head and produced a great, howling laugh. It quickly ended, replaced by a facade of neutrality.

“I’m frightened, I assure you,” the homunculus replied in a completely deadpan tone. “After all, it’s not every day somebody bites the dust and lives to tell the tale.”

Ed felt his breath hitch in his throat, and his eyes widened. He took another step back. How—?

“How did I know, you might ask?” Envy was relishing this conversation, savoring every word. “Well, let’s just say a little bird told me.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Ed’s mind raced back over the past few days before freezing on a specific memory.

That night, in the car. He remembered seeing a bird fly by that looked just a little too big.

“You?!” he sputtered.

“Oh, you noticed after all!” Envy said, making his way further up the stairs, “I’m touched!”

Ed didn’t have much more room to maneuver. He pounced forward, aiming his automail blade for Envy’s throat. Envy simply moved to the side, leaving Ed to tumble down the stairs.

The jagged edge of the stairs caught him harshly with each fall, and Ed felt like he was being chewed in the mouth of a great beast. He reached the merciful end, slamming against a cold tile floor. His mouth opened to scream, but the fall had knocked the wind out of him, and he produced a noise that sounded more like a broken whistle. His vision had turned into bright and melting shapes, rendering him temporarily blind. It almost would have been comical, if his life weren’t in danger. 

Envy seemed to agree, as he began laughing hysterically. Ed had a mental image of the homunculus doubled over, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. Gritting his teeth, he tried to move, but his muscles screamed in protest. He was in no shape to stand up, let alone fight.

“And they wonder why I love to fuck with you so much,” Envy said, their words full of a sinister mirth. Suddenly, though, their voice turned to venom, full of bitter loathing.

“But seriously, brat,” it spat, slowly descending the stairs, “you’re gonna tell me why you aren’t dead right now, or I’ll make you wish you were.”

“Why should I tell you, asshole?” Ed yelled, his voice barely audible. Envy responded by smashing his foot into Ed’s flesh hand, prompting another scream.

“Didn’t I just  _ tell  _ you why? Fucking moron.”

Ed grit his teeth again, trying not to pass out from the pain. Envy lifted him by the collar, roughly dragging him forward and slamming him into a wall. Ed tried to raise his automail hand and swing it at Envy’s neck, but the homunculus simply caught it with one hand, keeping him pinned with the other.

“Look how pathetic you are,” Envy purred, grinning again and narrowing his eyes, “hiding away like a coward, discarded by your precious friends like so much dead weight. Hurts, doesn’t it? To be abandoned by the ones you love?” 

Envy tightened his grip on the automail, and Ed could hear the sound of metal being bent and snapped out of place. It tore at his nerves, causing him to convulse, but the homunculus kept him in his place against the wall. He tried to thrash away from Envy’s grip, but each attempt was answered by the grip tightening like a vice.

“Fuck you,” Ed spat. His voice was shaking, but he raised himself up as much as he could, staring Envy dead in the eyes. The homunculus scowled.

“You’ve got a big mouth for being such a pathetic whelp.”

Ed’s vision was swimming. No, he  _ couldn’t  _ lose consciousness, not now. Envy wouldn’t kill him, but if he passed out, he would be powerless to stop the homunculus from doing whatever he wanted to Ed. Dark hypotheticals danced through his head. What if he was kidnapped, taken somewhere where he would never be found?

Some part of his brain stirred at the thought. Hadn’t avoiding everyone until he could get things figured out been his goal?

The idea that had struck him was so absurd that he froze up, eyes widening as he tried to process it. Envy shook him a bit, as if trying to wake him up.

“Don’t space out on me, brat!” he hissed, baring his teeth for emphasis. “I’m not fucking around!”

“Envy.” It was as much a question as it was a statement. Ed looked directly into his eyes. The homunculus didn’t say anything, which he took as a sign to continue.

“Could you do me a favor?”

Envy’s eyes widened, and all at once, his grip released on Ed, sending him tumbling to the ground in a heap. The monster seemed to be stopped in time for a few seconds, as if he couldn’t understand the words he had been told. Ed could have used the opportunity to escape, perhaps, but — he grit his teeth as he thought it — he wouldn’t. He had nowhere to go. There was only one option left.

What was that saying about desperate times, again?

When Envy finally spoke, his voice was dangerously low.

“What?” Ed didn’t know so much loathing could fit into a single syllable.

“If you want me to tell you anything,” he began slowly, steeling himself, “you need to help me.”

His statement was met by a burst of howling laughter. Envy fell to his knees, banging the floor with his fist, sounding like each laugh was consuming all the air in his lungs. He barely seemed to pay attention to the fact that Ed was there, a fact which annoyed him greatly, but in his current state, he knew he was too weak to be any sort of threat.

“That’s—” the reply was interrupted by another fit of laughter. Envy composed himself, and grinned at Ed, wiping tears from his eyes. “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard you say! And believe me, there’s a lot of competition for that. How dumb do you think I am, pipsqueak!”

“I’m being serious!” Ed yelled, raising his fists. He was now slumped against the wall, too tired to stand.

“Why should I believe you?” Envy stood up, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. The laughter had died, leaving behind a familiar bitterness Ed had come to know far too well. “You hate my guts, kid, and the feeling is mutual. Why would I do  _ anything  _ to help you?”

“Because if you don’t, they’re gonna kill me?”

“Huh? Who’s ‘they’? Have you gone nuts?” Envy cocked his head to the side, then jolted his head in realization. “You mean your so-called friends?”

“Yes.” Ed could almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding against each other. “They think I’m a fucking homunculus or something.”

He wasn’t sure how to properly describe the expression on Envy’s face. It looked like he was undergoing every emotion at once.

“I knew you were all idiots, but I didn’t think it was this bad.” Envy’s gaze drifted away from Ed, and he began muttering to himself. “Shit. This is going to interfere with our plans…”

Ed was extremely curious to know more about whatever plan Envy was talking about, but he stayed silent.

It felt like hours passed before the homunculus turned back to him, a look of repulsion lining his features.

“ _ Fine _ ,” he hissed. “But understand this, runt: I don’t do charity. If you try to defy me, your life is forfeit. Get it?”

There was no doubt in Ed’s mind he was telling the truth. He nodded.

“Good.” Envy walked forward, a sinister gleam in his eyes. “I can’t have you seeing the path to our base, though, so I’m just gonna knock you out. Sweet dreams!”

Before Ed could even begin to protest, there was a swift movement, a painful crack, and the world went dark. 

When he woke up, he didn’t move or say anything for a while, simply staring at the ceiling. Maybe the reason horrible things happened to him all the time wasn’t because of bad luck, but because he kept making poor life decisions. Had he really just decided to work with Envy? True, he was only using him to get a place to hide, but the fact of the matter remained that they had made a deal. He only hoped Al could forgive him after this was all over.

But how could things be resolved, at this point? He had been declared dead, and the people who had once been his friends — no, who were  _ still  _ his friends, he corrected stubbornly — now believed him to be a monster. Even Al. It still stung to think about.

However, he had to keep going. Ed hadn’t gotten this far by giving up. If he had gotten into this mess, he could get himself out, and he’d do whatever it took to fix things.

When he approached Godwyn that morning, it was with a newfound look of determination.

“What’s the quickest way to the capital of Daggerfall?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORE CORNER: THE DREAMSLEEVE  
> The Dreamsleeve is a real and esoteric lore concept that we don't have much information on, so I kind of improvised a bit. It's sort of analogous to a magical internet network which you connect to using solely the power of your mind. I used it in the fic as a headcanon-y explanation for why questgivers seem to know the problems of everyone in the region simultaneously. Funnily enough, there's a segment in an official player's guide for Daggerfall that states the Mage's Guild has a way to track every single monster in a region through some kind of pseudo magic satellite monitoring system called the Monster Grid, but who knows how canon that is anymore.
> 
> See you on Monday!


	11. Set In Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy goes for broke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! It is yet another installment of my self-indulgent crossover! Okay, so like, I didn't become aware that Chris Mustang was a thing until after I wrote this chapter... she would have perfectly slotted into the role I needed. Oops! I swear I'm going to watch Brotherhood soon once I'm not so busy.
> 
> I probably won't be able to update this Thursday, but this chapter coincidentally happens to be about 50% longer, so hey, it kind of works out!
> 
> I now have a [Tumblr](https://magmatickobaian.tumblr.com/)! Feel free to go ask me anything, or just look at some of my art, if you want.

Roy Mustang awoke with a sense of purpose. Behind every movement he made, he projected a sense of confidence, walking into Headquarters as if he could move mountains. His team needed to trust him completely, and that went double for Alphonse Elric. He walked into his office with his sternest, firmest expression.

That didn’t stop him from feeling like the world was collapsing behind the facade.

His heart felt like it was trying to escape his chest, and when he was alone, he took large, gulping breaths. Had his uniform always been so constricting? It felt like his skin had grown a few sizes too small, and that the tension would snap him apart at any moment.

He closed his eyes, trying to stabilize his breathing. No, he couldn’t afford to lose it. Not when he had come this far. If he collapsed now, all of it would have been for nothing. His team trusted him — and he needed all the trust he could get.

The late morning hours were beginning to fade into the early noon. Mustang knew the meeting had to be today. The dam of military paperwork and regulation preventing Fullmetal’s funeral was nearly at its limit, and once it cracked, all hell would break loose. He had gone over it in his head hundreds of times, thinking and rethinking every word he should say. He took another deep breath.

“Hawkeye,” he said, projecting what he hoped sounded like a sense of purpose. “I’d like to call a meeting. Off the record,” he added quickly.

“Understood, sir.” She quickly made her way towards the door.

“Make sure Alphonse is there.”

She paused, her hand hovering over the door handle. She turned to face him, a glimmer of confusion passing briefly over her face.

“Alphonse as well, sir? He’s not a member of the military. If he doesn’t want to attend, you won’t be able to make him.”

“If he wants to continue lurking around Headquarters despite being a civilian, he’ll come. Besides, if you tell him the meeting concerns his brother, I doubt he’ll need much convincing.”

At the mention of Fullmetal, Hawkeye’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but she soon returned to her typical neutral expression. 

“Understood, sir.”

She walked out, leaving Roy alone. This was going to be difficult. He hadn’t yet told anyone that the body in the morgue that supposedly belonged to Edward had jumped up and started talking to him, much less anything else that had surrounded the entire situation. The only other person who knew anything was Mirriam, who he had put off the case for her own safety. Unfortunately, this meant he didn’t have any proof for his statements.

However, he knew his team. They would follow him to hell and back, if that’s what it took. He needed to be firm about this. If he was doubting himself, others would doubt him as well. He shook his head, a futile attempt to try to clear his thoughts.

The door clicked, and Hawkeye stepped forward. Behind her, Mustang could see his team, at the ready, and the unmistakable figure of Alphonse. Even from the comfort of his office, he could feel the tension in the air.

“Everyone is ready, sir.”

“Excellent. Like I said, this is off-the-record, so I don’t want this to be too formal. I’d like to take everyone out to lunch. My treat, of course.”

His demeanor was casual, but the implications of his statement were anything but. It was unsafe for them to meet in Headquarters, where anybody could overhear them. The meeting would take place away from prying ears, to avoid leaking sensitive information to the enemy. Hawkeye’s expression hardened.

“Understood. I’ll tell the others.”

Hawkeye turned back and repeated what he had said. There was a collective buzz of talking, likely celebration at getting a free lunch, but Mustang knew his team had grasped the significance of his move. Standing up, he walked through the door, now standing right beside Hawkeye.

“The place is called The Red Vine,” he began explaining, “and if you need directions, ask Breda. He’s the one who pointed it out to me.”

By not stating the directions out loud, they couldn’t be followed by anyone listening in.

Breda grinned. “Glad to see you liked the place, boss. It’s been a personal favorite of mine for a while.”

The Red Vine was the result of tireless hours of searching on behalf of Heymans Breda for the most inconspicuous place in East City. It was a tiny tea shop and bakery, tucked away in the long-forgotten remnants of what used to be a bustling market, but was now a quiet district. When Breda had found the place, it was on the verge of bankruptcy, but under-the-table donations from the paychecks of the team had managed to keep it afloat, which meant its owners eagerly accepted Mustang’s request to use the place as an occasional meeting spot for the team. All the owners had to do in return for their continued patronage was keep their ears away from military business, a deal which they gladly accepted.

It didn’t take long for everyone to arrive. They took public transportation, to avoid the attention parked military vehicles would draw sitting outside of the shop. When Mustang stepped inside, the place seemed to be the embodiment of “cozy”: worn wooden paneling, spindly and ornate furniture, homey decorations hung across nearly every square inch of the walls. The team had made themselves comfortable around the place, filling it nearly to maximum capacity, but having left a central position for Roy. Alphonse, the odd man out, sat awkwardly on the floor, knees tucked to his chest, doing his best impersonation of a bull in a china shop.

Lunch was brief. There was a faint but noticeable tension in the air which made Roy’s stomach lurch at the thought of eating too much, and judging by the light portions he saw going around, he wasn’t the only one. Eventually, once they had finished, the owner came out, a tiny old woman with flyaway gray hair, wearing flowing silk in bright but faded pastels. She briefly thanked them, then scurried away, saying she had to go check on something important but to please lock up after they were done, dears. They all nodded in acknowledgement.

The gentle, nostalgic atmosphere left with the old woman. Roy stood up authoritatively, and he felt every pair of eyes (and one pair of soul-lights) lock onto him. He felt as if he was the commander of an army, ready to lead his troops into battle, but also like a rabbit being hunted by wolves. He fought back the urge to swallow the lump in his throat.

“You’ve already figured out that I didn’t call you here for a trivial reason.” He put on his best speech voice. “And that what I have to say shouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

A flurry of unsynchronized nods.

“You also know that this meeting concerns the Fullmetal Alchemist.”

His team did an admirable job of hiding their reactions to the statement, but Alphonse visibly winced. He hadn’t said a word the entire time they had been there, completely absorbed in his own thoughts.

“Exactly one week ago, Fullmetal was found dead in the East Library. The Investigations team wasn’t able to discover anything that indicated the cause of his death. Forensic analysis similarly returned nothing. The case appeared to be a total mystery. However…”

Mustang paused, taking a deep breath. This was it. Do or die.

“…on the day we discovered the body, I went down to the morgue, along with Alphonse.” He gave a pointed nod in the boy’s direction. “Alphonse, do you remember what we were told?”

“…what?” It took Al a few seconds to register he had been spoken to. “Why are you asking me?”

“So you can corroborate the story.”

“Um, okay…” Al looked down. Mustang felt a twinge of guilt for making the boy relive the experience of finding his dead brother, but if he got someone other than himself to back up at least one of the strange details of the incident, it would make his seemingly outlandish revelation a bit more believable. A few more seconds passed, and Al looked up again.

“W-well, they said that his body was abnormal, and that it wasn’t exhibiting some of the signs of death, I… I think.”

“That’s correct. Thank you, Alphonse.” Mustang took this as a sign to continue. “We were allowed to see the body, and after some time, I was left alone in the room with it.” He decided to skim over the details of Al’s grieving. He had already put enough pressure on the boy, and there would only be much more before the meeting was over.

Mustang stalled. He knew exactly what he had to say next, but the words didn’t want to come to his lips. A brief pause in speech was quickly turning into an awkward silence.

“And then what?” Havoc asked, trying to coax the words out of his superior, “What happened?” 

He took another deep breath. It was do or die.

“I was standing over the corpse when it hit me. Literally. It got up and started talking.”

Roy had always thought the old idiom about all the air getting sucked out of a room was an exaggeration until this very moment. He wasn’t sure if he was still breathing or not. An intense electric crackle seemed to spark through every fiber of his being. He wasn’t sure how long the silence lasted, but eventually, Alphonse spoke up.

“It spoke?” Roy didn’t know what had surprised him more: that the boy who had been dead silent all day was the first to speak up, or his tone. Mustang had expected disbelief or anger. What he had not expected was hesitant curiosity, as if the boy was having his suspicions confirmed. “It spoke to you?”

“Yes.” Despite all the time he had spent planning and anticipating this meeting, he still felt completely unprepared.

“Boss, I think maybe Hawkeye was right about you getting some rest,” Havoc said in a concerned tone. “Have you been sleeping alright?”

The rest of the team was looking at him with similar expressions of worry. His eyes darted back and forth between them, trying to look for any sign that he had been believed at all. Hawkeye took a step forward, which Roy mirrored with his own step back, placing him against the wall.

“Sir, I think the Second Lieutenant is right. I shouldn’t have allowed you to come back in so soon.” Her stance and voice made it immediately clear this wasn’t a suggestion. Roy raised his hands.

“You—”

“You don’t understand!” Alphonse screamed. He had risen to his full height, his helmet grazing the ceiling of the shop. Everyone’s eyes had turned to him now.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” he continued, nearly hysterical, “but I think the Colonel is telling the truth.”

“Alphonse,” Roy said firmly. Once the boy was looking at him, he continued, “why do you believe me?”

Roy realized the second the words left his lips that questioning the only person in the room who believed him wasn’t a very good idea. Al’s shoulders slumped for a moment, but he stood up as much as he could in the cramped store soon after.

“Because I heard him too. A few nights ago.”

“What?” Roy said, bewildered. He hadn’t expected this. As far as he knew, Al hadn’t gone back to the morgue at all. How would he have gotten the opportunity to see the thing pretending to be his brother?

“It was late at night,” Alphonse replied, launching into his explanation, “and I was the only person awake, like I normally am. But then I heard a voice in my head, claiming to be my brother.”

Mustang reeled from this. Could the homunculus project itself into other people’s thoughts as well?

“I thought I was going crazy. I couldn’t mention it to anybody. But if  _ you  _ saw something…” He pointed towards Mustang. “It can’t be a coincidence! Colonel, what if it’s—”

“—a homunculus?” he finished. Alphonse seemed a bit startled at first, but quickly nodded his head. The rest of the team had been watching their exchange in fascination, looking between the two as they spoke. “Given everything I saw, it’s the only reasonable explanation.”

The statement sank over the room like a heavy blanket. Eventually, Feury spoke up, in a meek voice. 

“I… I, uh, believe the Colonel.” He straightened up a bit, gaining a bit more confidence. “I know it sounds hard to believe, but he doesn’t  _ sound  _ like he’s crazy at all.”

_ Very reassuring, Feury,  _ Mustang thought to himself. There was another round of silence as the team looked amongst each other.

“I believe the boss, too,” Breda chimed in. “Al is a good kid. I don’t think he’d make up something like this.”

“I feel the same way,” said Falman. 

Suddenly, the Colonel had strength in numbers. The only holdouts were Havoc and Hawkeye, looking somewhat cornered.

“…okay, okay.” Havoc sighed, putting out a cigarette. “You’ve all convinced me. The Colonel doesn’t strike me as the type to let himself go crazy, anyway.”

Mustang didn’t know if he had that much confidence in his ability to stay sane, but he wasn’t going to argue the point. 

A defeated looking Hawkeye took a step back, her shoulders drooping a bit lower than they had been before.

“I’m still not sure about this,” she said, looking at Roy sternly, “but I’ll place my trust in you once more. Sir,” she added.

“Well, I guess that’s settled.” Roy hoped he didn’t look as dazed as he felt. “We have a homunculus to take care of. There’s also the distinct possibility that the real Fullmetal is out there, somewhere. Our two current priorities are to confirm Fullmetal’s status, and if he’s alive, plan and mount a rescue operation, and the elimination of the homunculus. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” came a flurry of voices.

“Good. Now get back to work. Lunch has gone on long enough.”

In all the rush, nobody noticed a lone, red-eyed black bird perched just outside the store, listening in.

* * *

They returned to Headquarters with a steely determination. After work ended that day, they went to the morgue together, choosing to eschew their uniforms. It was risky to have all of them come along, but Mustang knew he needed backup for a task like this. As they walked in, the man sitting at the desk nearly jumped out of his chair. Roy recognized him as the man he ordered to keep the homunculus locked up.

“Oh,” he said nervously, “it’s you!”

“Yes, it’s me,” Mustang replied curtly. “Can you lead us to the body of Edward Elric?”

“But…” the man stuttered, “but you said—”

“It doesn’t matter what I said before. Are you going to obey my orders, or not?” 

“O-of course. Right this way.” The man stood up and scampered off. Mustang didn’t have any time to feel bad about his verbal abuse.

They walked quickly down the halls, with anyone present scurrying out of their way. Roy barely registered them in his mind. When he finally arrived at the room, the same man was standing outside. Somehow, his nerves looked even more shot than before.

“Mr. Colonel Mustang, sir,” he began, with a great gulp, “there’s a problem.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I just checked, and the body is, ah…” he paused, scratching behind his neck, his gaze flickering away, “…gone, sir.”

“What.”

It wasn’t a question. Mustang couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Had it seriously escaped?

“I thought I told you to make sure it was secure.”

“It was, I swear! I made sure! Somebody must have undone the straps!” The man’s voice was hysterical.

Mustang growled, clutching his temple with his gloved hand. This was just perfect. The last thing he needed was an escaped homunculus on top of everything else. Who the hell could have freed that thing? Who would have even known about—

He froze as the realization hit him.

“Do you know where I could find Mirriam Jensen?” He said slowly.

“Huh?” The man looked baffled at first, but quickly recovered. “W-well, sir, she normally has the graveyard shift, but she’s taken the last couple of days off. Something about personal matters.”

“Do you know anything about these ‘personal matters’?” he pressed.

“I’m not sure why you’re so interested, sir, but no, I don’t. Well, now that I think about it…” he put a hand under his chin, scratching it. “A buddy of mine works the front desk sometimes at around the same time Mirriam is on duty. A few nights ago, apparently, she had a kid with her. Said he was her nephew or something. Never even knew she had a nephew. Didn’t look much like her either, apparently.”

Mustang felt a cold pit forming in his stomach.

“And what did he look like?”

“Do you really need to know all this workplace gossip? Uh, nevermind,” the man recoiled at the death glare drilling into his soul. “Well, this is all second-hand info, but apparently he was kinda short. A mop of blond hair. Sorta pale looking. Kinda reminds me of that Elric kid, now that I think about it. Hey, what’s with the looks?”

Mustang turned around. Every single person on the team looked like they had just lost a gallon of blood. Even the unflappable Hawkeye was failing to hide her horror. He looked back at the man.

“What’s her address?”

“I have to draw the line somewhere,” the man said, standing up straighter. “I can’t just let you take people’s confidential information like that.”

Mustang grit his teeth. Why did he choose now to grow a backbone?

“I’ll deal with the consequences of that later. This could be a matter of life and death.”

There was a pause as he considered his options.

“…promise you won’t get me in trouble for this?”

At least he was still reliably cowardly. “I promise.”

“Okay then, fine.” He relayed the address. “I’m not even gonna ask what you’re doing. I don’t think I wanna know.”

“That’s probably the safest decision you could have made.”

The trip to the house passed by in a blur. Nobody said a word the whole way there. Mustang marched up to the door and knocked loudly. He heard a muffled shout, and a minute later, the door opened.

The woman looked positively ill. She was practically swallowed by her lime green pajamas, as if she had lost a significant amount of weight in a short amount of time. The lightning wasn’t great, but Mustang could see a red tint and a watery film across her eyes.

“Oh,” she said, the words leaking from her mouth with groggy disdain, “it’s  _ you _ .”

“You sound awfully calm for someone harboring a fugitive.”

The woman let out a weak laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m not harboring a fugitive anymore.”

“I’ll be the judge of—” Roy’s eyes suddenly narrowed, glaring at Mirriam. “What do you mean ‘anymore’?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. I know who you’re here for. He’s gone.”

Roy felt like his body was slowly going numb from the head down.

“Where did he go?”

Her shoulders slumped.

“I have no idea. Trust me, I looked. I came home one morning to find my house ransacked and empty. It’s as if he vanished into the night.”

Roy’s brow furrowed. Ransacked? Homunculi weren’t human, but from the stories Al had told them, they weren’t the type to make big messes that could draw unnecessary attention to themselves. It sounded like there had been a struggle — maybe between this new homunculus and its brethren?

“May I search your house?”

“Do you have a warrant?” Mirriam shot back.

He didn’t. 

“This is a matter of people’s lives,” he replied. “People could die if we don’t find that thing.”

“That ‘thing’?” Mirriam raised an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know any better, it would sound like you thought that boy was a monster.”

A spark of rage flared inside him, but he smothered it. It wouldn’t do to get angry at this ignorant woman. She had already involved herself far too much as it was, and there was no way Mustang would let it go even further. He sighed.

“I’ll be returning when I have a warrant,” he turned to leave, and was forced to confront the haunted looks of his team. “If you change your mind and decide to give us helpful information, feel free to call me.”

“Don’t count on it.” With that, she slammed the door shut.

From somewhere, Roy heard a crowing noise from the trees. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think they were laughing at him.

* * *

With some money in his pocket and some preparation, the journey to the capital would be a fairly uneventful affair, or so it seemed. He embarked on the first leg of his journey as soon as he could, electing to walk to save on gold again. In a ritual that was becoming somewhat of a habit, he staggered into a tavern, passing out the instant he touched a bed.

Ed awoke, not in Tamriel, but a dilapidated building. It’s architecture was simple, but Ed had never seen anything like it before. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. Wherever he had been taken, it had not been occupied for decades — no, centuries, at least. He was laying on a bed which was just as dusty as anything else, but the layer was disturbed, as if he had been roughly thrown there by someone else. It didn’t take much guessing to figure out who it could have been.

Groaning, Ed tried sitting up in place, taking displeasure in the way both his real and artificial joints popped and cracked. Envy had evidently done some serious internal damage to the automail, as he couldn’t move it more than about a foot in any direction before it froze up and went limp back to his side. His real limbs weren’t doing so hot either, being covered in the vivid purple and green hues of a garden of bruises. He wouldn’t be able to figure out where he was in this state, though he doubted that he would be able to figure it out even if he was able to walk around freely. He recalled Envy’s words about making sure he didn’t see the path to their base, and violating that would probably void their alliance.

Ed groaned again as he had to confront his actions once again. Making a deal with a homunculus was probably the second-dumbest thing he had ever done, and even now he was doing his damnedest to make a run for the number one spot. 

Speaking of which… where  _ was  _ Envy? He would have thought the spiteful fucker wouldn’t want to keep him out of sight for a moment.

As if on cue, he heard footsteps beating against what sounded like loose rocks. From a window which faced out onto an abandoned-looking street, he saw a familiar head of dark green, spiney hair fly by. Suddenly, there was a flash of alchemic lightning, and Ed was face-to-face with a giant suit of armor.

“Rise and shine, brother!” The mockery of Al sneered, in a decidedly unbrotherly fashion. Ed fell out of bed attempting to swing at Envy.

“Fuck you!” he shouted, flailing his limbs. Envy simply caught him and gave him a swift kick to the gut, then tossed him back onto the bed. The homunculus laughed as it turned back to its typical form.

“Hahaha! That was a good one!” He smirked, letting a sharp set of fangs show. “I’m gonna enjoy practicing my impressions on you, twerp. Wanna see another?”

Ed scrambled to his knees, narrowing his eyes. “ _ No _ ,” he spat.

There was a blinding burst of light and alchemic crackling as Envy transformed again. Ed flinched, raising his hand to cover his eyes. When the light had died down, he saw Colonel Mustang standing over him, looking as smug as ever.

“How unprofessional,” the man sneered, looking far more unhinged than Mustang ever had. “I oughta court martial you, brat.”

Ed dragged himself up on the bed again. He glowered at the homunculus.

“He doesn’t even sound like that. You suck.” 

The so-called Mustang frowned before returning to its true form.

“What a killjoy. Is this how you treat everyone who does you a favor?” Envy crossed his arms. 

“Only the ones who try to kill me. Agh!” Ed hissed as a pinching, painful sensation shot through his automail arm. Envy laughed at this, which only caused him to scowl even harder.

“Anyway, brat, you should know that I went spying on those cretins you call ‘friends.’” The homunculus slathered the word ‘friends’ with as much disgust as he could. “Looks like you were right about them thinking you were one of us. Ha! Could you imagine!?”

Ed didn’t want to imagine being anything like Envy, but he held his tongue. 

“Anyway, they’re out looking for you, or something. I’m not an idiot, so I didn’t leave behind any clues, obviously. They’ll never find you here.”

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or unnerved by this. A sudden thought bubbled into his head.

“What about the crime scene?” Ed paused. “The spot where I died?” he corrected.

“Huh?” Envy raised an eyebrow. “Well, apparently, they found bupkis. Trust me, pipsqueak, I’ve already been over there myself, when I was looking for you, and I didn’t find jack shit.”

The idea that Envy could so easily sneak into a restricted military building made Ed’s skin crawl. On the other hand, it seemed everyone had overlooked the book he was reading. He didn’t blame them — it looked like complete nonsense — but there was still a chance it held something of value to get him back.

“Could you go over there again?”

Envy sneered, baring his teeth.

“Do I look like a manservant to you? You better have a good reason to make me go all the way back there again, brat.” Envy looked like he was on the verge of attacking him. Ed gulped.

“There’s a book I was reading, a huge one. Leatherbound and all that shit. It’s important. I might not be able to give you the info you want without it.” His voice strained when he got to the last statement. Truthfully, he had no intention of telling the homunculi anything, but he had to play along for now.

Envy thought to himself for a moment, weighing his options. Eventually, he let out a deep, labored sigh.

“Ugh.  _ Fine _ .” In a literal flash, Envy transformed into the image of an incredibly generic looking soldier. “This better be worth it, brat, or you’ll regret it.”

Ed had absolutely no doubt in his mind that the homunculus would make good on that promise. Envy trudged out of the house, mumbling darkly to himself.

Once Ed was alone, he was suddenly hit by a wave of nausea. The world was spinning violently, threatening to topple over at the slightest provocation. Accepting the inevitable, he tumbled back into darkness, already preparing himself for the tedious day’s journey ahead.

* * *

Ed awoke to see a large book sitting in the middle of the room. A small slice of clear, undusted floor seemed to trail behind it, which meant someone — Envy, obviously — must have tossed it on the ground. He scowled. That was no way to treat a book. He would have some choice words with the homunculus about it later, but for now, he had some reading to do.

He dragged himself from the bed, despite the protests of his aching limbs. Once he had rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he noticed there was a note placed atop the giant tome. Picking it up, he realized it was a letter, and from Envy, at that. Ed had never considered what the homunculus’s handwriting might have looked like, but staring at the rough and uneven letters that looked like they had been carved into the page, he couldn’t say he was surprised.

“‘Dear’ Fullmetal pipsqueak,” it began.

“Fuck you,” Ed muttered under his breath.

“I got your stupid-ass book. You can also be sure none of those dumbasses figured out it was me. I have no idea why you’re so scared of these clowns, but I guess you are  _ much  _ more pathetic than me.”

Ed quickly flipped through the letter, trying to skim its contents. The entire thing was riddled with constant asides insulting him, and more than a few of the remarks about his height had caused him to create craters in the wall with his automail fist. It hurt like a bitch, but his pride hurt more.

After a few rereads, he was able to understand the gist of what had happened.

* * *

The last place Roy wanted to be was back at the place he had found that homunculus, but here he was, standing in the library in front of a now all-too-familiar table. It had been neatly cordoned off with red tape, preventing anyone without proper clearance from entering. Not that anybody would want to, given that it was the spot where a boy had been found dead barely a week ago.

It was true that Investigations had found nothing, but given what Roy had learned about the situation, it was more than possible they had overlooked something. That’s why Mustang found himself returning to the scene of the crime, despite the bile that was beginning to rise in his stomach. Ducking under the interweaved tape, he stood a fair distance from the table, unwilling to get closer.

The first thing he noticed was the folder lying towards the middle. Roy didn’t need to open it, or indeed, get anywhere near it, to realize that it was the report Fullmetal had been due to give. But why would the homunculus have it? Why would there be a homunculus there at all?

Mustang quickly quashed the bubbling feelings of doubt rising through the tar of his thoughts. He had seen more than enough evidence to support his conclusion. In the grand scheme of things, this was a minor footnote. He decided to file it away mentally.

There was a book lying near the folder. Roy was going to have to get closer if he wanted a better look at it, unfortunately, so he steeled himself to step forward.

“Hey!”

He jolted, his head whipping around to face the source of the voice. It looked like somebody with Investigations, given the uniform, and the frown and furrowed brow clearly showed they weren’t happy with something.

“What are you doing here? You need proper clearance!” They yelled. Roy would have told him to keep his voice down in a library, but he knew etiquette was the first thing to go at a crime scene.

“As a matter of fact, I happen to have it,” Roy replied, raising a small badge he had been handed. “Is that all?”

The soldier fumed. “No, it’s not,” he replied curtly. “You’ll have to get it renewed. We just had a major security breach, and everything is on high alert.”

Roy frowned. “I wasn’t informed of any security breach.”

“That’s because we don’t want to announce it to the world, idiot.”

Despite being several ranks below him, the soldier was acting awfully cocky. Roy made a mental note to find out who the man was and write him up for insubordination later.

“Fine,” Roy spat, stepping away from the crime scene, “but you’re coming with me.”

The man smirked. “No can do,  _ sir _ . I have orders to watch the scene and make sure nobody else tries any funny business.”

Before Roy could even ask for proof, the soldier pulled out a signed document. Sure enough, he saw the seal of the Fuhrer, authorizing one Thomas Mitchell to stay on guard. Roy sighed. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

“I’ll be right back.” With a death glare, he walked off briskly.

After having escaped from the paperwork labyrinth that was getting reauthorized, Roy returned to the scene, ready to give Lieutenant Mitchell a piece of his mind. Unfortunately, the man was nowhere to be seen. Typical. When he turned the corner, however, he froze, and the anger in his blood turned to ice.

Gone. The book was missing, along with the scattered illustrations of transmutation circles that had been strewn around it. His only hope at a lead had vanished into thin air.

He doubted he would be seeing that so-called soldier again. Something was wrong, and Roy realized he and his team needed to step carefully through this situation, or they would all end up dead.

* * *

Ed grimaced. Clearly, his definition of subtlety did not align with Envy’s. Nevertheless, it didn’t  _ seem  _ like any clues had been left behind… For now, he was just going to have to live with it. He bent down to pick up the book, but the white-hot pain that flashed through both of his arms made him think better of it. Cracking it open, he knelt down on the floor, ready to give the book a second go.

Sure enough, it made more sense, now that he had added context. Unfortunately, “more sense” wasn’t exactly a high bar to clear, and it was still incredibly esoteric. Whoever Kelkemmelian was, he clearly was not a succinct writer.

That wasn’t to say there was nothing to be gleaned. Kelk had theorized some connection between magic and alchemy, in particular, that the latter was derived from the former, but in a restrained form. It sounded like a reasonable enough point to Ed, which darkly amused him — it seemed he had come full circle on considering alchemy to be magical, a belief he hadn’t held since he was a child. The theory itself was rather vague, which probably meant the author hadn’t been able to come up with anything more specific as an explanation.

Ed didn’t really care one way or another about metaphysical bullshit as long if it didn’t concern him directly, so he decided to place the theory on the backburner for now. Given the way things were shaping up, it looked like he’d have plenty of time to read over this thing, anyway.

More intriguing, however, was some of the new information he had picked up about Tamriel. It seemed like there were quite a bit more than just two worlds: along with Tamriel and Amestris, you had a bunch of different planes of something called Oblivion, Aetherius, and a variety of other places. Apparently, travel between the two different planes was not only possible, but had been done several times in the past. Ed decided to look into this once he got the opportunity.

There was enough information to make his head spin, but one tidbit in particular stood out to him.

_ Numidium, known by many names, chief among them the Brass God or Brass Tower, was the greatest artifact left behind by the Dwemer, who Disappeared many years ago. It is a thousand stories high, or So it is Said, with the power to reshape Reality. I wonder if the Dwemer Disappeared in much the same Way as I have: Trapped in this Infernal Other World! _

This had definitely piqued Ed’s interest. Sure, he had no proof this thing existed, but he technically didn’t have proof that magic existed, either, at least not at the moment. Unfortunately, this was all that was said on the subject, so Ed wasn’t left with very many leads. It was like the hunt for the Philosopher’s Stone all over again.

Growling, he slammed the book shut, marking his place with a spare piece of paper lying around. Envy had left a pile of them, along with pens, probably knowing that he needed to take notes to be of any use.

_ Gee, how considerate. _

Ed could tell morning was coming. Not because of the light — this place always seemed to be bathed in artificial radiance — but because fatigue was pulling at him again. When he woke up, he would only be a few hours away from the capital of Daggerfall, and he could begin his investigations in earnest.

As he stared at the ceiling, waiting for a wave of darkness to overtake him, he had only one thought.

_ What am I getting myself into? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORE CORNER: THE DWEMER  
> The Dwemer, also known as the "Dwarves," were a race of people known for their skilled craftsmanship and propensity for living underground. A very long time ago, all of them vanished without a trace. Ask three historians about the disappearance of the Dwemer, and you'll get four different answers. Nobody knows for sure, not even in an out-of-universe context, but we're fairly certain it has something to do with Numidium. Numidium itself is a whole can of worms, being essentially the focal point of both Daggerfall and Morrowind. For now, don't worry about it!  
> Fun fact: despite being called Dwarves, the Dwemer were of completely normal height. The name "Dwarves" came from the Giants, who are, well, you know. This misnomer stuck, however, so people call them Dwarves outside of academic circles for the most part.
> 
> Unfortunately, there probably will be no update this Thursday. I'm gonna be moving back to college, so I'll have my hands full with that. If I can sneak an update in, I will, but don't bet on it. See you on probably Monday!


	12. Status Quo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After two months of unproductive work, Ed gets a lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (TW: This chapter contains some slightly graphic descriptions at the beginning and some non-graphic violence towards the end.)
> 
> I'm back! Slowly getting settled into the college life again. Since I'll probably be busy with school from now on, and I'm reaching the end of material I already have written (gotta love writer's block) the fic might go into standby soon. Don't worry, that doesn't mean it's abandoned! I fully intend to finish it. Yes, many abandoned fics have author's notes declaring the author's "full intentions to finish it," but you'll have to trust me on this one.
> 
> I now have [a tumblr!](https://magmatickobaian.tumblr.com/)! I mostly post my fanart and occasional fic updates there, check it out if you want to I guess.
> 
> I decided to try and experiment with work skins in this chapter. If this breaks for anybody, please let me know so I can try and fix it!

“Three-hundred gold. Take it or leave it.”

Ed scowled, crossing his arms. He tried to stare daggers into the man’s eyes, which were sunken into his face, accented by his high cheekbones. If this had intimidated him, he wasn’t showing it.

“Absolutely fucking not.” He jabbed a finger towards him for emphasis. “Five-hundred.”

“Three-hundred and fifty and not a septim more.”

“I’m not budging. Five-hundred.”

“You’re quite arrogant for being a mere adventurer.”

The man tilted up his nose, looking down on Ed, which only caused his brow to furrow deeper. Fucking elves. Pomposity seemed to be a valued cultural trait among most of them.

“We agreed to five-hundred, asshole.”

The man smirked, magnifying his smug aura by a factor of ten.

“Yes, but where is the proof?”

Without blinking, Ed whipped out a journal, rapidly flipping to an entry dated four days ago. He wordlessly pointed to a lovingly detailed record of their agreement, with the man’s signature neatly scripted below. The High Elf frowned, looking like he had hoped all records of the exchange had gone down a memory hole.

“You aren’t slick, moron. This isn’t the first time someone’s tried to fuck me over.” Ed extended a hand. “Pay up.”

A few seconds ticked by as the Altmer considered his options. He scratched his chin, where the stubbly patches of what could generously be called a beard were starting to grow.

“I see. You’ve got me.”

There was a flash of white, and a dagger sped towards Ed’s throat, burying itself within the flesh. There was a gurgling cry, and his body fell limply toward the floor.

“Hmmm,” the man said to himself, eyeing the corpse with distaste, “I suppose you weren’t as smart as you thought, little Breton.”

Suddenly, there was a loud crack that sounded like a fist connecting with the back of a skull. The man stumbled forward for a few steps, shocked, then toppled unconscious to the floor.

“Who the  _ fuck  _ are you calling little, you Goddamned freak? You’re so tall you hit your head on door frames even when you’re bent over!” His hands waved hysterically through the air as he ranted.

The man didn’t reply. Ed cracked his knuckles with a satisfied smirk. Clearly, he was the victor of this battle of wits. That, or he had knocked the man the fuck out. Both explanations worked for him. With a wave of his hand, the fake corpse on the ground was gone, as though it had never been there.

“They never stop falling for that one.” He quickly scooped his well-earned money from the man’s wallet, eager to get away before the guards got the wrong idea.

Two months. It had been two entire months of learning, searching, investigating, and of course, fighting. That’s how long he had been living in Daggerfall, trying to make ends meet. Unfortunately, people here weren’t any nicer than they were back in Amestris, and more often than not, he found himself on the wrong end of a sword’s edge, trying to avoid being robbed. Like just now, for instance.

Tamriel was completely deranged. But worse than that, he had willingly become part of it.

Ed marched up to a guild guide, looking pissed. An average day, then. He had earned a reputation for himself as someone who did jobs nobody else would touch, even if he complained about it the entire time. 

“You didn’t tell me the place had  _ fucking _ ,” he spat, narrowing his eyes, “liches. Asshole.”

Of all the things Edward Elric hated, the undead were at the top of his list, narrowly winning out over the likes of the bastard Colonel, homunculi, and the Colonel again, who was on the list eight more times for good measure. Nevermind the fact that they were living—in a manner of speaking—reminders of his own mistakes, they were obnoxiously durable, adamantly clinging to the vestiges of unlife. He had made it his personal mission to destroy any that crossed his path, but it was exhausting, difficult, painful—emotionally and physically—but most of all,  _ tedious _ .

“Because I didn’t know it had liches, obviously. Everyone we sent there for a report died. Probably from the liches.” The scrawny dweeb in front of him was lucky that the Guild fiercely enforced its policy on not hurting other members.

Ed wanted to throttle him. “Don’t sound so casual about it. I almost died, too.”

“Yes, that’s what we pay you for.”

“Yeah, I’m noticing a distinct lack of payment in my hands, at the moment.” Ed motioned with his fingers, wiggling them a bit. Greed wasn’t a virtue, but after the fifth time of almost getting ripped off because of an employer “conveniently” forgetting his reward, he was beginning to think charitability was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

“Yes, of course. Here you are.”

Ed snatched the gold from the man’s hands and stomped off in a wordless huff.

He was getting better at magic. A lot better, actually. He had always been called a prodigy, but he figured that was a label ignorant people used to dismiss his countless hours of hard work and dedication to his craft. As he began to quickly shoot up the ranks of the Mages Guild at a pace that others couldn’t stop commenting on, though, he wondered if there wasn’t any merit to the idea. He had learned a variety of spells of varying utility, namely the ability to Identify magical objects. It was situational, but he had been able to offer it as a service to the less magically-inclined, for a price. His military salary was sorely missed. 

It didn’t matter how skilled he was, though, because all of his leads on his actual goals were coming up dry. The first night he had arrived, he encountered the ghost of the king floating through the streets, crying out in an unearthly wail from beyond the grave for vengeance. He nearly twisted his ankle running away from it in a blind panic. His further inquiries at the palace on the subject were obstinately stonewalled by the nobles, who seemed more content to discuss petty politicking and romantic affairs between the third cousins of minor nobility then the fucking ghost right outside the walls. He had reread the Emperor’s letter approximately fifty times at this point, trying to glean any last sliver of usable information from it, but it was infuriatingly vague as ever, and there didn’t seem to be secret code hiding a clue, either.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts as he walked aimlessly through the streets that he didn’t notice a small child speeding through the crowd until they collided. Ed stumbled back a step, and the child paused for a moment, staring warily. They were completely androgynous, dressed in rags and filth, but with keen, hawklike eyes, sharp like the tip of a dagger. Before he could utter even a cry of confusion, the child sped off again, vanishing into the sea of passerby.

Thinking fast, Ed patted himself down, hoping he hadn’t just let himself get robbed like an idiot. Thankfully, everything seemed to be in order, probably because he kept all his stuff in his backpack and didn’t have any easily accessible pockets thanks to wearing a robe everywhere. His fingers brushed over a slightly crumpled piece of paper crudely shoved into a fold of his bag. Snatching it out, he saw it was an envelope, sealed with a cherry-red wax.

The open streets suddenly felt a bit too exposed for Ed’s tastes. He scurried off to an inn, hastily rented the most private room they had, and nearly ripped the paper as he wrenched it out from its envelope. His eyes flew across the page, absorbing all the information it could.

Dear Edwyval,

I heard about your accident at sea, and feared the

worst. Now that I've heard you're alive and well, I

would like the opportunity to meet with you and discuss

our beloved Emperor's mission in the Iliac Bay.

Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lady Magnessen,

the Emperor's agent in the court of Daggerfall. My

position is not so official as an ambassador. None but

other agents of the Emperor know of my true affiliation.

The Iliac Bay is rife with rebels against the Imperial

throne, so your discretion is required.

For the purpose of our meeting, I will take a room

at an inn, The Rusty Djinn Inn

of Daggerfall, for a month. After that, I will no longer

be available. I will expect you as soon as possible.

Yours sincerely,

Brisienna, Lady Magnessen

Ed’s chest was at war with itself as a rainbow of emotions played out within him. Relief at having finally found something to go off of. Anger at having not found it earlier. Fear at the potential that this was a trap. Excitement at the prospect of what came next. Anxiety over the gravity of his upcoming decision.

Should he go? He spent the rest of the day consulting his options, agonizing over every path available to him, pacing a hole into the floor of his room. If he  _ didn’t _ go, then he might miss the only lead he’d ever get for a way back home. Not returning simply wasn’t an option—too much unfinished business remained unsettled in Amestris. On the other hand, there was no reason to believe this woman was who they said they were. Even if she was telling the truth, what if he was getting himself mixed up in something he would regret? Too many options, not enough information—story of his fucking life. 

As dawn dispelled the specter haunting the city once more, he came to his conclusion: He would bank his hopes on this letter for now. If it was a trap, then Ed was pretty confident that he could handle himself in a fight. Knowing there was a trap laid for him was a lead in and of itself, after all, so it wouldn’t be a total waste. As for getting himself mixed up in something he would regret… well, he had been doing that his whole life. What else was new?

* * *

The Rusty Djinn Inn wasn’t far from the capital — half a day away on horseback, at worst — and it was the very definition of “inconspicuous”. A few small houses stood few and far between, all loosely positioned so that the titular inn was standing proudly at the center. It resembled Resembool, only a lot snowier, a comparison he wasn’t eager to dwell on, lest his memories embroil him in a wave of longing. The fact that he technically could communicate with his friends and family made his heart ache like an old wound on a rainy day. He sorely missed being able to talk to people from his world not named Envy, especially his brother.

Ed knew Al was probably taking the situation worse than anybody, and he so desperately wanted to comfort him and tell him things would be okay. But he also knew that doing so would only make things worse, given how his brother had reacted the last time he tried. Swallowing his guilt, he shoved his thoughts away as he rode into town.

“Woah!” he called, tugging the reins. Blossom—his horse—bucked around for a bit, but eventually stilled. Riding a horse had come surprisingly naturally, probably from all of the horseback rising he had observed growing up in the country. She had been temperamental, at first, but the two had gradually developed a sort of camaraderie with each other. He enjoyed complaining to her about the various wrongs that had been committed against him each day, and she quietly listened. Maybe talking to a horse was crazy, but Ed figured it wasn’t any crazier than wearing a robe everywhere. After securing her safely in a nearby stable, he went off to the inn, the main fixture of the town.

Walking into the tavern, an uncharacteristic wave of chilly silence hit him, just as cold as the air outside. The atmosphere was a far cry from the eternally rowdy inns of the capital that gave second-hand intoxication to anyone in a mile’s radius. A few people milled about, but it didn’t take much guessing to figure out who he was here to see.

She was dressed in fine brown robes, lined with luxurious white fur that was soft even to the sight. An exorbitantly expensive-looking gold amulet adorned her neck, the light playing brightly against its polished jeweled surface, and her expression conveyed a delicate mixture of detachment and distaste that Ed had come to associate with royalty. From the calculating glint in her directed gaze, she knew who he was. Standing up straighter, he proceeded forth, trying to look as natural as possible.

“Thank you for responding to my letter so promptly, Edwyval,” she began. Her tone of voice was haughty, but not infuriatingly so. “Let me bring you up to date on affairs.”

Edward let out an audible sigh of relief. “Thank God. I’ve been waiting for two months for someone to tell me what’s going on.” Truthfully, he had quite a few choice insults he had prepared on the ride over for the woman who made him wait, but he’d keep those in his back pocket for now.

“I apologize, but political tensions have been growing in the Iliac Bay, as I’m sure you’re aware. Given that you were living in the capital, I had quite a bit of trouble getting anything through to you.” It was difficult to tell if her tone was genuine or a highly trained imitation of the real thing.

Ed scowled. “Are you saying it’s my fault that it took so long?”

“Not at all,” she replied smoothly. “Shall I continue?”

Brisienna didn’t seem the slightest bit phased that Edward was a hair’s breadth away from snapping. Reluctantly, he grumbled, “Fine,” signaling he was listening.

She got to the point immediately. It seemed like the prime suspects were the nobles of the major powers of the Bay: Sentinel, Wayrest, and Daggerfall. Ed would have to investigate the courts himself, a plan which didn’t exactly excite him, but it was infinitely better than nothing. She did have one concrete lead, however.

“The Emperor had a letter he wanted delivered to the Queen of Daggerfall. He hired a courier to deliver it. We do not know his name. The letter is of little value—of a sentimental nature, I’m told—but it may be worth looking into if it ever arrived.” 

“…Is that it?” Edward said after a pause, sounding a bit hopeful that she had more to say.

“The last thing I have to tell you is this: Do not mention my name in court. It is more likely to hurt than help. Good luck, and watch your back, Edwyval.” 

With that, she turned away, as if they had just finished a casual bout of small talk. 

His circumstances had hardly improved, irritating him greatly, but he took the hint and walked away. Through the window, he could see the sun was just about to dip below the horizon. It would be a bad idea to depart this late, given that the winter evenings could practically freeze your blood in your veins. He would have to stay the night and depart the next morning.

Despite the fatigue and anxiety that washed over him as he climbed into bed, a small smile spread across his lips. Finally, things were starting to look up, even if only by the smallest scrap.

He should have known the other shoe was about to drop.

* * *

When Ed awoke, a feeling of dread nestled in the pit of his stomach that refused to go away greeted him, and knowing it was there only made it worse. His sixth sense, so to speak, was highly tuned, so if his gut decided to pipe up, he knew it was a bad idea to ignore it.

The feeling intensified once Envy showed up.

Envy hadn’t made very many appearances in the past two months, only showing up to provide more paper or pens for him to work. The homunculus’s increasing agitation was mirrored by Edward’s increasing nervousness in response.

“Do you have anything useful yet, pipsqueak?” 

The homunculus towered over him from his place on the floor. Ed had asked if Envy could move the book to a table or something last month, and all he had gotten in response was laughter. Asshole.

“I already told you, I’m still working on it,” Ed hissed, looking back down at his notes.

All his poring over the book inevitably led back to the same transmutation circle that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. It was an extremely difficult circle to understand, and it vaguely reminded Ed of the attempts he had seen to translate the budding field of chaos theory into alchemical terms. If even one of the many lines was altered, the circle ceased to have any meaning. It was only in this impossibly specific arrangement that the magic happened. The  _ literal  _ magic, because Ed doubted that alchemy was the only force going into this thing. There was something distinctly off about it, but Ed wasn’t eager to activate it again, given the results of the last attempt. So, he continued to analyze it, poking and prodding at it from a safe distance in the vain hope he could reverse engineer something useful out of the thing.

Envy stomped his foot, snapping Ed out of his mental rambling.

“That’s what you said the last five times I asked you, twerp.” Envy leaned down, getting his face closer to Ed. “When’s it gonna be done?”

“Trust me, I don’t want to be in this situation any more than you do.” Ed wished he had enough strength to stand up. He could only stare the homunculus dead in the eyes, trying to intimidate him with false bravado. He doubted either of them were fooled. “But this is difficult. I have no idea when I’ll be done, okay? Lay off.”

“Look,  _ kid _ ,” Envy spat, leaning in, “we might have all the time in the world, but the boss isn’t so patient. You better start producing some results soon, if you don’t want to die for real. Trust me, I’d love nothing more.”

Ed scowled, biting back a retort. Envy had mentioned a ‘boss’ a few times in the past, but Ed hadn’t been able to get any good information about whoever it was. It was a mystery, to be sure, but he had far more immediate and concerning mysteries to deal with right now.

“I’m doing the best that I can.” What a lame response. Ed was almost as angry with himself as Envy appeared to be with him.

“Well, your  _ best  _ isn’t good enough. You know, you’re really starting to piss me off, brat.”

Ed tensed up, and his muscles coiled in as if to make himself look smaller. Envy really  _ had _ been getting angrier over the course of the conversation, but he hadn’t noticed until the homunculus was practically boiling with rage, sparking and burning in his eyes. He sat there, not knowing what to say, or if he even  _ could  _ say anything without pissing Envy off. Unfortunately, staying silent wasn’t the right move, as the homunculus swooped down and grabbed Ed by the throat, lifting him off the ground. He gasped, trying to reach for air that only hit a wall of compressed throat. Out of shock, he continued to cling to the paper with the transmutation circle, clutching it until the paper began to crumple..

“Hmmm. Suddenly, you’re not so talkative. Funny how that works!” Envy laughed, revelling in seeing Ed choke under his hands. “I wanna see how long it takes for you to turn blue!”

He was going to die if he didn’t do anything. Envy’s eyes were glazed over in a roaring fir of manic rage, leaving no room for rational thought. Ed was too weak to even budge the homunculus’s arms, let alone break the grip, and his legs fluttered uselessly through the air, kicking at ground that was just out of reach. He knew any agreement with a homunculus would have ended up like this, yet he did it anyway. What a stupid way to go.

A spasm from a misfiring synapse in his increasingly oxygen-deprived brain ran down his left hand, reminding him of the paper held there. A terrible thought raced back in response, and his eyes widened.

There was no fucking way he was going to activate that thing. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. But what other choice did he have? The two choices looped back and forth in his mind, oscillating faster and faster. He was slipping into the realm of instinct and muscle memory, and eventually, all his brain cared about was racing for a slim possibility for  _ air he needed air right now let me breathe let me breathe let me breathe _ .

With one last burst of strength, he shoved the paper onto Envy’s chest, unfolding it with his palm. The homunculus frowned, narrowing his eyes.

“What are you—no!” The last word was screamed in a voice so raw it hurt his ears. An all-consuming burst of white-blue lightning shattered his vision, consuming all of his senses, until it all went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORE CORNER: LICHES  
> If you've heard of liches from other media before, you're probably pretty familiar with how they work here. Liches are powerful undead which are created when someone stores their soul somewhere outside their body, usually in something like a jar or chest, with this object being called a Phylactery. Destroying the Phylactery doesn't destroy the lich, since it's only actually used when the necromancer is ascending into lichdom, and is of no consequence afterwards. It's extremely difficult to become a lich, requiring harvesting souls of the innocent and correctly enacting many difficult, lengthy, and obscure rituals. 
> 
> See you (hopefully) on Thursday!


	13. The Widening Gyre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed's life gets more complicated, as if it wasn't already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really cutting it close with the time today, huh? Well, hopefully, it'll be worth the wait, as this thing is about 6k words, and quite a bit happens. I'm quite proud of how this chapter turned out, so I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> For art and other things, check my [tumblr](https://magmatickobaian.tumblr.com/).

Ed tumbled from his bed and hit the floor, clawing at his throat. He took great, shuddering breaths, even though his body didn’t need them, and a much greater presence of oxygen sent his mind into a dizzy reel. As he staggered to his feet, a sharp bump on his head whined, demanding medical attention and a nice long nap. Ed felt like complete shit, and if the room didn’t stop spinning soon, the contents of his stomach would abandon ship. Falling forward, he caught himself on the bed, holding on for dear life as he waited for the ride to slow down. As stability ensued, there was suddenly room in his mind for things like coherent thought and sensations other than nausea.

What had just happened? Obviously, he had gone and activated that array again like a fucking idiot. He looked down at his hands, as if hoping to see the answer written on them, but only two flesh appendages stared back. This side seemed fine, then. His world was a much more ominous open question at the moment. He sighed, letting the tension that had built up in his shoulders unwind into the floor.

He promptly wound right back up when a shuffling noise hit his ears. It had come from a dark corner of the room, ominously yawning before him. Slowly, he crouched closer to his bag, quietly sliding his trusty dagger from a small side pocket. It was ebony, he had learned, evidently an extremely hardy and reliable material, given the beatings it had faithfully taken over the course of two months. He silently crept around the bed, inching towards a spot on the far wall where he knew a lamp stood.

With a turn of the knob, a series of clicks gave way to a flurry of sparks, igniting it from within. Fire bloomed inside the glass, filling the room with light to reveal— 

“No!” Ed yelled, pressing himself to the wall in a panic that was anything but blind. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Why was Envy here? _How_ was Envy here? This had obviously been caused by that stupid fucking circle. It might have saved his life moments earlier, but right now, death was looking like a pretty tempting alternative.

Envy groaned, seeming almost groggy for a second, but an instant later he was as alert as ever, springing to his feet.

“Aagh!” the homunculus screamed, quickly assuming a battle stance. It didn’t take long for it to catch sight of Edward, frozen like a statue with one hand still on the lamp.

“You!” it howled, “You fucking pipsque—”

Envy cut himself off. With narrowed eyes, he tilted his head from side to side, looking at his prey. Ed, whose mind was still stuck in a silent looping scream, could only distantly observe this fact.

“I… hmmm…” Envy put a hand under his chin. “Wait a fucking second. You’re not the brat. You’re not scrawny enough.”

Ed’s deer-in-the-headlights expression vanished as his face contorted in rage. His fist flew forward like a bullet, finding its mark on Envy’s nose. With an enraged cry, the homunculus toppled to the ground, nursing his face.

“Who are you calling so scrawny that he could walk through the crack of a door without it being open!?” He towered over Envy, his glare searing with the force of a thousand suns. “Asshole!” he added for emphasis.

“Aagh! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Envy jumped to the side in an escape bid, tragically cut short by a right hook from Ed, this time to the stomach. He threw the dagger to his main hand, brandishing it with a dangerous glint of lamplight fire on its black surface. Ed saw the faintest glimmer of something he had never seen in a homunculus’s eye before, as Envy staggered backwards: fear. For anybody else, Ed might have felt guilty, but he had no pity in his heart for Hughes’s murderer.

The homunculus’s eyes narrowed, and he slid up against the wall, moving against it warily. Ed matched his movement from a safe distance, and soon the two were circling each other, ready for a fight.

“You certainly _sound_ like the Fullmetal brat…” Envy began, eyeing Ed, “but something isn’t right here. Who the fuck are you?”

“You had it right the first time.” Ed brought the dagger forwards in front of him, ready to defend himself. “And for the record, I’m not small, you freak.”

Envy looked like he wanted to shoot back a retort, but thought better of it. Though he tried to keep his gaze locked on Ed, his eyes kept darting off to the sides, scanning the surroundings.

“Yeah, maybe _now_ you aren’t, but last time I checked, you were barely pushing five feet.”

“Five foot three!” He made a jabbing motion with the dagger.

“Either way, people don’t just grow a head taller overnight.” The circle they had been walking was gradually getting smaller as the two spiraled in towards each other, the conclusion of this faux-dance obvious to both of them. “If you don’t explain what’s going on right now, I’ll finish what we started.”

Ed growled, ready to take the defensive.

“Trust me, if I knew what was going on, I wouldn’t be here right now.” His eyes helplessly twitched to the sides, as if hoping to find an exit to this bullshit. No luck. 

“Whatever.” Envy stopped moving, and Ed froze as well. “It’s been fun, but I have more important things to deal with right now.”

The homunculus pounced toward Ed, and he felt something wickedly sharp barely graze his cheek as he roughly threw himself to the side. Envy flew forward, quickly recovering from the lunge with a smooth roll, instantly facing Edward again. The grin on his face was feral.

“I’m glad you’ve decided to start fighting back,” Envy said, slowly standing up, “it was getting incredibly boring beating up crippled kids.”

Something in Ed snapped. He had spent the last two months getting absolutely nothing accomplished while this motherfucker had tormented him the entire time. Ed was in absolutely no mood to put up with any more of this bullshit. He sheathed his dagger and raised his hands, making an x-shaped motion with his hands. The homunculus frowned.

“What the hell are you doing?” it asked.

“Keep talking and find out.”

Envy opened his mouth to do just that, but no words came out. He paused, then tried again. When he was still unable to talk, his face contorted into a snarl. From the movements of his lips, he had some very vulgar opinions about the matter. 

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Ed smirked and put a hand under his chin, reveling in seeing the homunculus squirm in rage and discomfort. 

Silence had quickly become one of his favorite spells in the short time since he had learned it. Aside from being an effective way to disarm spellcasters, it was his tool of choice for dealing with pompous blowhards who loved hearing the sound of their own voice. Like a certain dark green-haired homunculus, for instance.

Envy’s expression painted a thousand words, even as his mouth conveyed zero of them. With another leap forward, he aimed for Edward’s throat. He stepped back far enough to avoid the killing blow, while staying close enough to catch Envy by the arm. A familiar high-pitched whine split the air, and before the homunculus had enough time to look confused about it, the buzzing crackle of live electricity within Envy, who silently writhed. The homunculus stumbled to his feet, glowering at Ed. He took a step forward, and— 

“Hey!”

Both of their heads whipped over to the door, where the large frame of the bartender stood. He was scowling, and his eyes were lined with bags.

“This is an inn, not the Fighter’s Guild.” He made a gesture with his thumb. “Take it outside.”

“Yes, sir,” Ed mumbled. He paused for a second, and eventually decided he was going to drag Envy, kicking but not screaming, along with him. There was no need to subject innocent bystanders to the presence of a homunculus.

Unfortunately, the spell wore off as soon as they were out the door. Envy let loose a howl of rage that could have woken the dead, and probably did, for all he knew.

“How did you do that? If you do that again, I’ll—”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Envy seemed taken aback by the dangerous edge in Ed’s tone.

“I’m serious. The absolute last thing in the world I needed right now was more of _you_.”

The homunculus frowned at this, ready to spit back another retort, when his eyes wandered toward the sky and nearly popped from his sockets.

“What the fuck?!”

Ed sighed. He didn’t even need to look to know what Envy was referring to.

“You mean the second moon?” he replied casually.

Envy sprang forward, grabbing Ed by the collar. He shook him a little, in an imitation of an actual throttling motion.

“What the fuck is going on?!”

“Welcome to my living nightmare for the past two. Fucking. Months.”

Ed felt a numbness wash over him that had nothing to do with the cold. Maybe he really _had_ gone crazy, Envy being the anvil that broke the camel’s back. The prospect of finding a way back had already seemed nearly impossible, but with this nutcase on top of everything, it was almost too much to bear. 

Envy let go, and Ed gently dropped into the embrace of snow, as Envy stumbled backwards. His face was lined with confusion and doubt, which looked alien, more bizarre than anything else in this world could be. Ed hated how much he could empathize with his reaction. Eventually, the homunculus seemed to compose himself enough for a response.

“Okay.” He stood up a bit straighter, brushing the stray strands of hair from his face that had been blown around by the wind. “Okay. We both hate each other—”

“I am not cooperating with you,” Ed interrupted flatly, “bye.”

“Wait!”

Ed didn’t stop. He had already turned to leave, ready to go get his horse and leave Envy to his fate.

“Don’t fucking ignore me!” The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow, out of sync with his own, came from behind. He frowned, but kept moving.

“Give me one,” he said without turning back, pushing against the snow, “ _literally one_ reason why I should agree to work with you, after all the shit you’ve put me through.”

There was no reply at first. Ed could still hear the footsteps behind him. He furrowed his brow. Why did the stables have to be so far away?

“Because…” The word was almost drowned by the wind. Envy repeated himself, louder this time.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll die.”

That got him to stop. Envy didn’t, and they collided, sending both of them toppling into the snow. He pushed himself up, an uncomfortable mixture of emotions buzzing through his skull as he glared daggers at the homunculus.

He hated Envy. If Ed woke up the next morning to find Envy was gone without a trace, both worlds would be made better for it. Envy was a homunculus, a soulless creation, the result of human transmutation, a monster who wanted nothing more than destruction and despair.

Even still, he couldn’t simply kill him. He couldn’t even sit by and let somebody else kill him. Murder simply wasn’t something he could shoulder the weight of so casually. He grit his teeth, standing up from the snow. His uneasy gaze concealed a simmering spitfire of concerns.

“How do I know you aren’t just going to stab me in the back the first chance you get?”

“You don’t, obviously. But let me say this, kid: I’m not stupid. I don’t wanna be here any more than you do. I’ll use you to get my way, no matter what it takes, and if that means—” He grit his teeth. “— _working with you_ , then so be it.”

His tone of voice was crushed and grinding, like he was trying to extract several thousand spears from his chest at the same time. Fury dripped from every syllable, directed outwards and inwards in equal measure. Ed could practically see the gears moving in Envy’s head as he attempted to find some rationalization to ease his humiliation.

This was insane. Sure, he had already struck a deal with Envy before, technically, but that was different. That had been a calculated move on both of their parts, attempting to extract something useful from the other. It was tenuous, a deal that could have fallen—did fall—apart at any moment. This was trust. Partnership. Ed didn’t know which one of them was more disgusted at the moment.

The mere fact that they were considering this was proof enough the situation was dire beyond comprehension. Instead of a choice, he was presented with a foregone conclusion. 

“…I can…” He hesitated, trying to find the best way to soften the blow for himself.

“I can _tolerate_ you following me around for a little while,” Ed finished in a strained voice, refusing to look anywhere near Envy’s general direction as he spoke. “But the second you get any funny ideas…”

“As if you could do anything to me, anyway,” Envy replied with a smirk, dusting off the snow from his shoulders. It was nothing but bravado, but Ed took it as a confirmation of their deal.

“Fine.” Ed started marching towards the stables again. “By the way, we’re sleeping in the woods tonight.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you got us _kicked out,_ asshole.”

A heartless laugh erupted from behind him. “What a wimp! Why don’t you go show that guy who’s boss, brat?”

“I’m fine with sleeping outside if it means inconveniencing you as much as possible.” It wasn’t a lie. He and Al had made do with some pretty dicey sleeping arrangements in their time, and he was no stranger to roughing it in the wilderness at this point, given the… less than adequate infrastructure of Tamriel.

Envy snorted.

“Ever hear the phrase ‘cutting off your nose to spite your face’?”

The novelty of this was already wearing off. Ed wanted to go home already.

* * *

To his relief, it seemed like Envy had exhausted most of his one-liners before they arrived at a campsite. Ed had refused to let the homunculus get anywhere near his horse, so he had transformed into a bird instead. He was thankful that Envy’s shapeshifting abilities still seemed to work in the world, but even more thankful that birds couldn’t talk, although he was pretty sure he had heard some very vulgar chirping noises a few times along the way. When Ed finally stopped at an empty clearing, Envy reappeared in a blue flash, looking disgruntled.

“Being a bird sucks,” he groused, stretching his limbs.

“Why, because nobody can listen to your constant bitching?” Ed unfurled a bed roll near a fire pit. He couldn’t see the homunculus, but he swore he could feel a death glare boring through his chest. He smirked. Good to see his insult game was sharp enough to get under Envy’s skin.

“Whatever.”

Ed closed his eyes, concentrating to shut out the incredibly annoying presence nearby. The fire pit was his focus. He imagined a spark, bursting to life from within it.

Suddenly, a warmth blossomed to his side, melting away the frozen numbness that the storm had brought. He sighed in audible relief, plopping down in his bed roll.

“How did you do that?”

He opened his eyes, lazily glancing towards Envy, who still stood at the edge of the campsite. Instead of the homunculus’s default expressions of rage, contempt, annoyance, or unbearable smugness, he instead saw hesitant confusion.

“How did I do what?”

“Start the fire. You didn’t even do anything.”

For the first time in months, Ed genuinely smiled. He folded his hands behind his head, soaking in the warmth of the fire.

“Magic.”

A pause. “Haha, very funny. Now tell me the actual reason. I still wanna know how you did that little trick earlier, twerp.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“…you really have gone crazy.” 

He fully agreed with that assessment, but it would be a cold day in hell before he openly agreed with Envy about anything. He rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, sure. Whoever heard of someone who could make fire with just their hands? What’s next, shapeshifters?”

The homunculus growled, stomping closer toward the center of their ad hoc campsite. “Cute. Are you saying you’re a homunculus now?”

“No, but I might know a few people who would.” He immediately regretted his joke when his heart painfully fluttered in response, causing a wave of guilt and regret to settle over him like a blanket. 

Thankfully, Envy didn’t seem to notice the grimace that tugged at his face, as he was too busy looking around. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

Ed raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know homunculi needed to sleep.”

“We don’t. But if I have to wait for your lazy ass to wake up, I might as well be comfortable.”

He thought about it for a few seconds. “Can homunculi freeze to death?”

Envy scoffed. “Of course not.”

“Then you can sleep in the snow.” 

Envy opened his mouth to complain. 

“If you bitch about it, I’ll make sure you can’t talk for a week.”

His mouth promptly closed again.

“Good night.”

Snuggling into the fur of the makeshift bed, Ed closed his eyes. The warmth of the fire was comforting, but an uneasiness steadily grew as he slipped into blackness. What would be waiting for him on the other side?

* * *

When Ed awoke, he was still dreaming.

Blinking, he sat up. The biting chill and raging warmth of the snow and fire were both gone, replaced by a pleasant, anodyne neutrality. There was a touch of dampness to the air, as if it had rained recently, but stopped. It didn’t feel like water, though — there was a humming buzz to the air, as if it were alive.

Turning his head, he saw Envy on the ground, lying on his side in the snow. He seemed motionless, at first, but there was the occasional twitch and crude muttering under his breath that showed he was definitely still alive and awake.

Ed got up, stepping toward the homunculus. Kneeling down, he attempted to prod him, but found his finger merely passed through, and recoiled with a loud cry.

If Envy had noticed either of these things, he didn’t show it. Out of curiosity, Ed walked in front of him. The homunculus’s eyes didn’t react as Ed waved a hand in front of his face. Though now that he got a better look at his hands, something struck him as… off. They weren’t transparent, exactly, but there was an odd trick of the light running over them, like he was being overlaid by something. It reminded him of an effect he had seen in some photographs, particularly the messy, unprofessional ones tucked throughout Hughes’s old scrapbook—the slightest traces of color bleeding at the edges of objects, purple at one end, green at the other. What had it been called, again? Chromatic aberration?

Ed looked upwards. He had thought it was daytime, since he could clearly see everything around him, but the stars were burning in the sky with palpable intensity, like a parade of miniature suns filling a celestial theater. Everything had an uncanny sharpness, and things that were miles away appeared just as clear as objects right in front of his face.

A tiny streak of light caught his gaze. He turned to look, and saw that there were many more, all falling from the sky. They were a brilliant sea green, a galactic light rainstorm from the infinite cosmos.

“…I really _am_ dreaming,” he quietly murmured to nobody in particular.

If he was dreaming, what was keeping him to the ground? As if in response to his thoughts, a weightless sensation bubbled under his feet. It seemed gravity had stopped applying. He kicked off the ground, soaring into the sky. The ground receded below him, and he observed the tangle of towns below, webs of light points, barely visible among the vastness of the evergreens and oceans. He rose higher, and eventually, his view was consumed by clouds and fog.

A lump rose in his throat. Had he gone too high? The numbing, dreamy sensation that he had been immersed in earlier was starting to wear thin, leaving only the raw anxiety that had been chewing away at his shredded nerves. He didn’t feel like he was dreaming anymore, but he couldn’t be awake, could he? Then what was this? Whatever it was, it wasn’t very fun anymore. He wanted to go back to the ground. 

But it seemed he didn’t have a say anymore, as he continued to rise, until even the clouds were too far below to be seen. Nothing but a vast, gray sea remained, nothingness that burned with intensity. It was a sensation similar to rubbing your eyelids too hard when they were closed. It was roiling, pouring and falling over itself, alive with the endless formation and destruction of colorless concepts.

It hurt to look at, if he was even looking at all. Tentatively, Ed tried turning to the side, to avert his gaze. That’s when he realized he was nowhere.

He _had_ risen too high — completely out of reality. On every side of him was an inky blackness that stretched beyond infinity, meandering through non-existence and further. His mind refused to let him look at it too long, pleading to look at anything that wasn’t the Void. The world, what he had been looking at before, seemed now to be so much smaller. On every side of it, a tower extended, reaching out in eight different directions, creating a structure that resembled a Wheel.

That thought refused to leave his brain, eventually turning into pain. He clutched the side of his head, as if trying to grab it out of his own mind by force. A tension was building somewhere: in him, in the wheel, in the center, from the Void, it was all and none and some of these things at the same time, or maybe some of them at no times, or none at different times.

From the gap between everywhere and nowhere, a voice.

“ _The Scripture of the Wheel, First:_ ” Ed tried to scream, but he had nothing to scream with. At some point in his journey, his words had gotten lost.

“ _The Spokes are the eight components of chaos, as yet solidified by the law of time: static change, if you will, something the lizard gods refer to as the Striking._ ”

He was clawing at his eyes, if he even had them anymore. He couldn’t see, he didn’t want to see, he didn’t want anything other than making it stop. Never in his life had he ever _wanted_ something so badly. Anything to make it stop. His arms, his legs, his life—

“ _That is the reptile wheel, coiled potential, ever-preamble to the never-action._ ”

There was a third voice, getting louder, paradoxically distant but piercing. It had been drowned out, but with each recursion, it gained in strength, until at last he heard the cry.

“Wake up!”

_Slap_.

It was like being doused in ice-water. Ed made a gasping noise, a fish on dry land, completely disoriented. His mind was jammed between two incompatible mental states, each struggling to throw the other off. His hands curled tightly around something flesh-like. The tape in his mind unjammed and resumed with a force that made him recoil, releasing his grip. His slowly returning vision revealed Envy kneeling over him. There were dark imprints around his neck, as if he had been choked by someone a few seconds earlier.

With a startled cry, Ed sat up. The stars and rain were gone, and the fire had fizzled out as well. It was firmly daytime now, with the sun invisibly shining behind a uniform, monochrome fog. Without the fire, there was only the bitter coldness and howling wind of the waking world.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Envy’s expression was one of mild annoyance, which didn’t seem fitting for someone had just been violently strangled. The previously suppressed rational part of Ed’s brain reminded him that homunculi probably didn’t need to breathe.

“What?” Ed said breathlessly, grasping for something to keep him tethered to reality. “What happened?”

“I was just sitting around, minding my own business, waiting for Mr. Lazybones to wake up, when I suddenly hear you make this blood curdling scream _._ I’ve never heard _anyone_ scream that loud, and believe me, that’s some tough competition you’re facing. Now, normally, I’d be enjoying this, but unfortunately, I need you alive, so I rush over to see what’s got you so worked up.” Envy paused for a second, as if looking for the right words. Ed gulped. That wasn’t a good sign.

“I get over there, and you’re trying to claw your Goddamned eyes out. You’re more useful to me with working eyesight, so I try to stop you, and you just start strangling me instead. I didn’t really care, but damn, the look in your eyes…”

Envy sounded legitimately uncomfortable, which only served to make Ed squirm. Anything able to get the far under the skin of a sadistic fuck like Envy had to have been a terrible sight. Good thing nobody else was around.

“Are overdramatic nightmares going to be a thing of yours I have to deal with?”

Frowning, Ed shook his head.

“I’ve never had one before. But…”

But that was because he hadn’t dreamt in months. If he had a dream, that meant he hadn’t returned to his original body at all.

That was… extremely concerning. Ed didn’t know what to make of it at all. He was no longer in a situation to investigate his world. If he was by himself, he would probably spend several hours running in a circle, panicking, but with Envy around, he needed to at least pretend to be composed. For better or worse, he would be putting his full attention on the matter of the king haunting Daggerfall.

“But…” Envy continued, trying to coax an answer out of Ed, but he merely shook his head in reply.

“Whatever. It’s nothing. We should get moving. We have a job to do.”

“ _We_ ? What’s all this _we_ talk about?” Envy huffed. “I didn’t sign up to do shit.”

“Yeah, well neither did I. Tough. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

From his expression, Envy clearly _didn’t_ like it, but he eventually caved in with extreme reluctance.

“Fine. But you better explain everything that’s going on.”

Ed wasn’t keen on explaining things yet again to another “person”, least of all Envy, but he figured it would be a nice distraction on the ride back to the capital. As they raced off into the sunrise, Ed began his tale. As detail after detail was met with a colorful variety of chirping sounds, he was once again eternally thankful birds couldn’t talk back.

* * *

Once they had gotten close enough to the capital, Ed suddenly stopped. The blue bird circled a few times before Envy reappeared.

“Why’d we stop here?”

“If you shapeshift in the middle of town, it’s going to start a panic.” Ed paused, looking him over. “Also, put some clothes on. It’s freezing out here.”

In a flash, Envy had covered himself in a generic-looking outfit suitable for colder climates. It wasn’t exactly high fashion, but since he was unironically wearing a robe, he had no room to talk.

“I kinda don’t want to slow down for you. Do you think you can keep pace with a running horse?” Ed asked.

It was a miracle Envy’s face hadn’t frozen into a scowl yet. “Fuck you. But also, yes, I can.”

“Good. Don’t fall behind.”

True to his word, Envy was quite the runner. He took leaps and bounds, but always managed to stick the landing. It was partially inhuman endurance, but it was also an impressive form on its own. They had soon arrived at the capital, the towering walls greeting them.

“Okay,” Ed breathed, setting Blossom up in a nearby stable, “so we have to go to the castle to see if they ever received a letter.”

“I still don’t see how this stupid letter means anything,” Envy grumbled, rubbing his arms. He looked out over the crowd of people, giving them the stink-eye as they passed.

“It doesn’t. But I don't have any better ideas. If you do, feel free to offer them up.”

The remark was met by silence.

“Thought so.”

He had been to the palace before, but it didn’t stop him from feeling a bit disgusted by how eye-searingly gaudy it was. He hoped whatever architect decided white and pink checkered tiles looked good had been burned at the stake. To add insult to injury, the banners draping the halls looked like they had been picked out by someone who was simultaneously colorblind and _actually_ blind. It was an offense to good taste and his eyes. Ed hoped he didn’t have to be here long.

Ed walked toward the throne room with faked confidence, which went a long way towards making it look like he belonged there. The nobles that had gathered there occasionally shot him glances, not always friendly ones, but nobody said a word. He threw open the doors, marching forward in a manner that was only respectful if you squinted. Standing at the back was a woman, which Ed assumed was Queen Aubk-i. She had jet-black hair that rolled over her shoulders in waves, which contrasted sharply with her simple beige dress, accented by a golden braid of rope. Her expression was self-assured and more than a little smug, which gave Ed the odd impression he was staring at a long-lost relative of Colonel Bastard.

She noticed him immediately, and Ed could feel a cold, calculating gaze go over him. He would never admit it, but having someone else with him made him feel a bit less intimidated, even if that person was Envy.

“Ah, an adventurer,” she called as Ed approached, “I have need of your services.”

“Really?” Ed replied. This woman sounded like a real piece of work, but he was going to have to hold his tongue, or the trail would go cold again. “What for?”

Immediately, the woman launched into her tale.

“My husband’s grandmother, Nulfaga, is rumored to have fallen into poor health. I am extremely concerned, of course,” she began, in an overwrought tone Ed didn’t buy for a second. “She has locked herself in her castle in the Wrothgarian Mountains and experiments in magical studies with no regard for her own safety.”

Locking yourself in a castle to perform dangerous magical experiments with no regard for your own safety was pretty much part and parcel of being a mage in Tamriel, so that part of the story was believable, at least.

Aubk-i wiped a few crocodile tears away and continued.

“I would know of her condition, but few possess the bravery to face the horrors of her castle and speak with her. My reward for a report on her health is a Staff of Featherweight. Will you be my champion in this?”

Ed would rather not describe himself as the champion of a woman he had just met, but he reluctantly nodded. Self-respect was the first thing to go.

“By Ebonarm, I am glad to have found a champion,” she said, touching a hand to her heart. Ed was embarrassed by how hard she was trying. “The name of her castle is Shedungent, and it should not take more than one-hundred and fifty days to go there. If she _is_ insane, Shedungent may be a very dangerous place, indeed. Be very careful. May Kynareth and Mara guide you.”

She made a short wave of her hand, and Ed knew he had been dismissed. Once they had left the throne room, Envy started laughing under his breath. Ed ribbed him with his elbow.

Out of curiosity, he pulled out his map to see where he was supposed to go. He blanched when the set of crosshairs blinked into his vision.

“Are you kidding me?” he said, a little too loudly for a palace. “The Wrothgarian Mountains? This is on the other side of the damn Bay! It’ll take forever to get over there!”

“Hahaha, what’s wrong?” Envy jeered, “Surely it’s not too much work for a _champion_ such as yourself.” Envy’s smirk was even more insufferable than it normally was. He was having far too much fun with this.

It hurt to frown this hard. “Why don’t you shove it up your—”

“Excuse me.”

Both of their heads turned towards a small figure standing on the stairs. She was a mousy woman with blazing red hair, wearing a modest set of clothes that had seen better days. Judging by the pail of soapy water in her hands, she was a maid. There was a fierce, almost haunting quality to her eyes that gave Ed pause.

“Er,” he stuttered, taking a step back, “sorry for the trouble, we were just—”

“‘S no trouble.” She placed the pail down, staring Ed in the eyes. “In fact, I could be of some help to ya.”

Ed squinted at her, placing a hand to his chin. “In what way?”

“Well, I saw you schmoozing with the queen. Ain’t no one come to kiss up to her ‘less they’re trying to get something in return.”

“…have you heard anything about a letter from the Emperor?” Ed cut to the chase. “It was supposed to have arrived here a while ago, but we don’t know if it ever did.”

“Hmmm. As a matter of fact… but I don’t have to remind you that there’s no such thing as free info, do I, Edwyval?” His name was delivered with a sharp, cutting jab of the tongue.

He couldn’t stop himself from being taken aback slightly. Envy was giving him an odd look from the side, as if he still couldn’t believe Ed was willingly going by such a stupid sounding name. 

“I'm just Cyndassa, a maid to her highness, nothing but a fleck to the world, and my needs ain't big. I need this werewolf done in.”

Ed blinked. Wait a moment. Had he heard that right?

“Pardon?”

The woman looked a bit irritated. “Did I stutter? I need a werewolf killed.”

Right. Of course. Werewolves. Why the fuck not. 

“I know just where it is — some Akatosh forsook hole called Tristore Laboratory on the Isle of Betony. I can’t tell you why, but it’s important to me that that werewolf gets put out of its misery. I’ll wait here for twenty-eight days for you — that ought to be plenty of time.”

Ed considered the offer. He wasn’t a fan of unnecessary killing, and there was no guarantee the info he would get was even good. But a werewolf was just a monster, right? Swallowing the lump in his throat, and ignoring the pit in his stomach telling him something was very wrong with this, he accepted.

Cyndassa merely nodded curtly in response, going about her business as though nothing had happened. Warily, Ed stepped out into the snow, eager to be free of the invisible web of tension that seemed to run through the palace.

As soon as he did, a letter came flying in from nowhere, hitting him in the face.

“Agh!” he cried, peeling the paper from his face. His eyes widened when he saw it was addressed to him. Ripping it open, he examined its contents, with Envy peering over his shoulder.

“Dear Edwyval,

My eyes and ears abroad say that you are

interested in the fate of a certain letter.

Any emperor should not be so careless, nor should

a queen. You really should come visit me in

Castle Wayrest. I have some most interesting

tidbits that I am sure you would enjoy hearing.

\-- Morgiah

Princess of Wayrest”

Things were getting complicated, and quickly. Ed was currently juggling three different tasks, each more irritating than the last. He wished he could have spaced these out better, but given how much he had just been complaining about having nothing to go on, he supposed this monkey’s paw treatment was well-deserved.

“They’ve really got you running around, huh?” Envy cackled to himself while Ed scowled.

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORE CORNER: THE WHEEL  
> The voice in Ed's dream spoke the first lines of the Twenty-First of the Sermons of Vivec, of which there are Thirty-Six. The Sermons are many things: an insight into cosmology, a foundational text of the religion of the Tribunal, a quasi-historical record, a poetic epic, a murder cover up and confession, and a guide to achieving enlightenment. 
> 
> See you guys on Monday! The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.


	14. Lunatics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed fights a werewolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO POST THIS. I don't even really have a good excuse since this has been sitting for months in my word document... Hopefully the promise of werewolves makes up for this.  
> I think this is the last of the stuff I wrote for NaNoWriMo, so any further updates will be things I've written more recently. I'm going to try to take control of my WIPs, since all of you lovely people deserve better, but I don't want to burn out, so I can't give any exact time frame for if/when I'll update certain fics.
> 
> Anyway, without further ado...

The Isle of Betony was just south of Daggerfall, a small, barely inhabited island with few people and fewer notable destinations. Like the rest of the Bay, however, the place was still dotted with more than its fair share of ruins and abandoned outposts, remnants of countless wars and skirmishes lost to the pages of history. Most of his journey involved traversing through pure wilderness, but occasionally, he would stumble across patches of land that stood out from the endless expanse of trees. Some places had subtle vibrations throughout the ground, often followed by a piercing, acidic odor that burned his nose. Other times, the ground was nearly damp with blood, with ominous runes raked through the dirt. Between nature and ruin, civilization felt like a footnote.

Their destination rested towards the highest elevations of the island, nestled along the soaring hilltops. From here, Ed could see the ocean surrounding them on all sides. Despite how high up they were, the wind still carried the distinctive aroma of saltwater to his nose, which mingled with the rich evergreen smell of the forest and the clean scent of snow. The sight transfixed him to the ground.

“Tell me when you’re done spacing out.”

Of course, the moment was broken by his infuriating travelling “companion.” He craned his neck towards the homunculus, who was standing behind him, looking over the ruins of the laboratory.

Unlike most ruins in the region, an above ground structure was present, towering from the ground. Getting closer revealed tell-tale signs of its abandonment: the overgrowth of plants through and across the walls, missing bricks from the outer facade, and most ominously, the eerie silence that blanketed the place, save for the occasional unearthly wail from somewhere deep below.

“Fine.” Ed turned his attention away from the vista, taking one last glimpse of nature before he dove headfirst into hell. “You better not drag me down, Envy.”

“I could say the same for you, brat,” he spat as they approached the door. Ed froze, his hand resting on the wrought-iron handle. He slowly turned an annoyed glare towards Envy.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” he said dubiously. Envy rolled his eyes.

“You already told me what this was like, dumbass.” 

Ed scowled. 

“Hearing something and seeing it for yourself are two very different things.”

“And I won’t ever get the opportunity to see it if you just stand around jabbering at me instead of getting shit done, pipsqueak.”

Normally, he’d have fired back with a retort about his height, but the fact that Envy had to look _up_ at him to talk did the job for him. With a labored sigh, he yanked the door open, shuddering as a wave of warm but stagnant air rolled over him, thick with the stench of blood and death.

“Ugh,” he muttered involuntarily. He’d never get used to this.

As he stepped in, he immediately lit a torch from his backpack, watching as the shadows in the room shook and wobbled. He hovered a hand near the right wall, careful not to actually touch whatever untold substances were smeared on it, and began following it.

“Why are you using a torch if you can just make light with magic?” Envy was walking behind him, mirroring his movements.

“Because it’s less efficient,” he replied without missing a beat. He could see a door on the left, but he decided to leave it for later.

“Why are you moving along the wall?”

“So I don’t get lost.” There were lots of narrow hallways in this place. He was covering a lot of ground, but none of it was useful so far.

“Do you have any idea where you’re going?”

Ed growled. “Can you stop asking stupid questions?”

Mercifully, Envy shut up.

Despite his concerns, Envy made an excellent body guard. They had encountered a few skeletons, but the homunculus had made quick work of them, smashing their bones into dust.

“ _This_ is the thing you were so afraid of?” Envy looked unimpressed as he snapped a fibula in two with a flick of his foot. 

“Two months ago, maybe,” he shot back, but he still couldn’t help but be uneasy in the thing’s presence.

They continued traversing Tristore Laboratory, turning over every stone they could.

“Looks like another dead end,” Ed sighed, as he walked into yet another empty room.

“What’s that?” Envy was looking at a table that rested towards the far end of the room.

Ed frowned, about to snap at the homunculus to shut up again, until a tattered piece of paper caught his eye. He moved over to read it.

“…I cannot believe Cyndassa acted so

spitefully, just because I broke up with

her friend, Lyra. Well,

I never much cared for visiting

Lyra either, and

thought we parted amicably...

But paying to turn me in to the

Shapeshifters, I just don't get it.

Cyndassa must be picking up bad

ways from those rotten nobles at

the Daggerfall Court."

An uncomfortable feeling welled up in his stomach. He had already known Cyndassa had to have some connection to this place to make him come all the way out here, but something reeked of foul play. He saw another entry tucked under the first.

“… I have no memory of coming to this place.

If I've been kidnapped, for what? We have no

money, and Cyndassa is barely tolerated by the

nobles at court. My last clear memory is of

watching the moon rise over Castle Daggerfall…”

He felt his hairs standing on end.

“What’s wrong, brat?” Envy called from behind him. Ed gave him a shaky look.

“We’re leaving.”

Envy blinked. “Huh? I thought you said this was important? Don’t tell me you’re _giving up_.”

“I’m not about to be used as the instrument for someone’s murder!” He snapped, slamming his hand on the table. Envy snorted, looking unimpressed.

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s not like you have any other options, whelp.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Envy was right. If he didn’t look into this, he would be down a lead, and he might never be able to get back. But would he be able to live with himself if he killed a man like this? He clutched a hand to his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

The diary entries had mentioned something about a woman named Lyra. Trying to find a single person with no clues would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, but he had to try.

“I have an idea,” Ed said suddenly. “We’re going to town.”

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to retrace their steps out of the dungeon. Once they had gotten out, Ed looked at his map. Betony wasn’t a very inhabited region, and the vast majority of towns consisted of an inn and a few houses, maybe a shop, if you were lucky. He picked the nearest place on the map and set off.

The next few days were a blur of questions, bouncing from town to town. Nobody at The Crimson Scorpion Lodge had known anything, and neither had the people down at The White Goat Inn. As Ed rode into The Howling Griffin Hostel, he was beginning to lose hope, and Envy’s patience was wearing increasingly thin.

“Excuse me,” he asked a man on the street wearily. Before he could even get the question out, the man spoke.

“Hey, are you the guy who's been goin’ around looking for Lyra? Edwyval or something?”

“Yeah, actually,” he blurted out, “do you know where she is?”

“She’s at the hostel.” He pointed in the direction of the largest building in town. “She’s been waiting for you.”

With a hurried thanks, he rushed to the building, unwilling to waste any more time.

Lyra was the first thing he saw when he opened the door. She had long, tangled hair that cascaded down to her back, frizzing at all ends. She wore a simple but practical-looking white dress which flowed down to her shins. Ed frowned. Was she barefoot?

“Are you Edwyval?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Yeah. Do you know someone named Cyndassa?” 

Her eyes narrowed even further. “Why do you need to know?”

Wordlessly, he produced the entries he had found in the laboratory. She snatched them away, reading them quickly. When she finally looked up, her eyes had widened in disgust, though Ed had the feeling it wasn’t directed at him.

“Why, Edwyval, you've found part of my old lover's diary,” she said, in a heightened tone. “I'd recognize that writing anywhere. Cyndassa, the filthy little whore, had him infected by two different loups!”

Ed raised an eyebrow. “Two different _what_?”

“Lycanthropes,” she replied, as if it were obvious. “Anyway, if you can return with him to me, I have some information that may be of some use to you. Cyndassa let something slip about a certain letter the last time we talked…”

His heart leapt in his throat. A small grin spread across her face, and it was clear she knew he had his undivided attention.

“If you’d let me tag along, I can help subdue and calm him.”

Ed opened his mouth to accept, but something in him hesitated. “Will I have to look out for you?”

She rolled her eyes. “My job involves working with werewolves. I am well prepared for occupational hazards.”

He was still uneasy, but he didn’t have very many options. He nodded his head, sealing their agreement.

* * *

Thankfully, despite Ed’s concerns about taking on yet another traveling companion, the witch proved able to hold her own. The journey back to Tristore Laboratory was swift, only taking about a day, with the woman calling on the help of a wild horse to carry her. Once they arrived, she gently slid off it and ran her fingers through its mane, her sweet tone conveying words Ed could not understand. With a winnie, the horse galloped off into the snow, quickly taken from sight by fog and flurried snow.

“He’s pretty close to the entrance,” Ed explained, stopping just in front of the archway of the entrance, “so you should probably be ready.”

“As should you, traveler. Are you prepared to fight a werewolf?”

Ed blanched. “I thought the whole point of this was _not_ to kill him.”

She smiled enigmatically. “Of course. But you must at least draw blood from him if I am to succeed.”

Ed frowned, crossing his arms. “Shouldn’t you have told me that sooner?”

“The instructions are simple. I didn’t see the need.” 

His scowl deepened, but he bit back his reply. Getting worked up about this would leave him with less energy for the fight, and from the little he had seen of that monster, he needed every advantage he could get.

As they entered, they could hear a gibbering howling noise coming from behind the door immediately to their left. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was making it. Quickly unsheathing his dagger, Ed kicked down the door with all of his might, trying to strike the first blow.

Unfortunately, the werewolf was quicker. As soon as the door was opened, something slammed into him like a car, sending him flying backwards. Envy and the witch, who had been following behind him, quickly moved out of the way to avoid being caught in the warpath. Ed found himself pinned to the floor, staring directly into the eyes — and mouth — of an extremely angry lycanthrope. It’s teeth were yellowed and impossibly jagged, and they seemed to extend farther than seemed physically possible. It’s eyes were gigantic and completely crimson, the color of blood. Ed froze up, an icy feeling numbing his veins.

“What are you doing, moron?!” a voice yelled from somewhere off to the side, “stab it!”

Remembering he had a dagger, he plunged the ebony blade into its arm just as it lunged to take a bite out of his left shoulder.

He screamed as an agonizing sensation ran through his shoulder, piercing through flesh, muscle, and barely grazing bone. There was a sound that reminded Ed of a strong wind, followed by a flash of green and yellow lights, and suddenly, his attacker locked up, freezing in place. Paralysis.

Unfortunately, though the attack had stopped, the werewolf was still stuck with his teeth embedded several inches into Ed’s shoulder. With his right arm, he gently pried its jaws open, grimacing as the fangs slid against exposed nerves. Without moving his left arm, he pushed himself to his feet, scrambling away from his attacker. He nearly stumbled to the ground from blood loss. He blinked away the spots that were dotting his vision.

“I’m surprised you’re still standing.” The witch sounded impressed. Ed grit his teeth, raising his good hand.

“I’ve been through worse.” He closed his eyes, letting the healing spell do its magic. He was thankful he could act as his own healer, because he was pretty sure his left arm would have been rendered permanently useless otherwise. 

“It’ll take a few minutes to complete the ritual,” the witch continued, stepping forward. “You should tend to your wound. I doubt you want to see this, anyway.”

“Sure,” Ed replied weakly. He began walking toward the room the werewolf had previously occupied, careful to give it a wide berth as he did. When he limped by, he heard a low whistling sound come from Envy, who was eyeing the injury with interest. 

“Damn, shorty, you got fucked up!”

Ed glared at the homunculus irritably. He would have shot back with a retort if he didn’t feel like he was teetering on the brink of unconsciousness. Looking down at his shoulder, he grimaced as he surveyed the extent of the damage. Even though the healing spell would go a long way towards mending it, there would still probably be a scar. He wasn’t sure why his shoulders kept getting bitten by feral animals, but there was no point in thinking about it now.

True to her word, the ritual only took a couple of minutes, but they were some of the longest minutes of Ed’s life. The howls coming from the other side of the door were painful just to listen to, and he imagined that no matter how much it had hurt him to get bitten, the man on the other side was going through something far more painful. Eventually, the howls changed in sound, turning from a snarling wolf into the weak voice of a human being. Ed could see even Envy was unnerved by the sounds.

Finally, the screaming mercifully ended, replaced by a soft, uneven whimpering sound. There was a click, and the door opened. The witch was standing over a young man lying on the floor, a filthy mat of red hair covering his head and face.

“Thank you for escorting me here.” Her face was drenched in sweat, and her voice was hoarse. It looked like the ritual had taken all the energy she had. “I suppose you deserve an explanation.”

The werewolf, as it turned out, was none other than Cyndassa’s brother. He had been bitten a few months ago, and though he had tried to fight it, had eventually succumbed to his bestial nature. He had holed himself up in the most remote location he could find, in an attempt to avoid harming anyone, but a lack of food had rendered him insane. 

“I’ve cured him, but he needs time to recover. I’ll take care of that. Cyndassa is my friend, or at least she _was_. I’ll write a letter for you to give to her as proof of your deeds.”

“Thanks.” Ed felt lost in his thoughts, turning over the events that had transpired in his head. Eventually, something occurred to him that made his brow furrow and his lips purse.

“Is something wrong?” the witch asked.

“So you’re saying he became a werewolf because he was bitten by one?” Ed looked at her anxiously, waiting for a reply.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

Scowling, Ed pointed to his left shoulder.

“Oh, right. Well, it’s not guaranteed, but you should probably go get that checked out at a Temple.”

“If I _did_ get something, can’t you cure it?”

The witch shook her head.

“The initial stages of lycanthropy start as a disease before eventually progressing into more of a supernatural affliction. I only know how to deal with it once it becomes the latter.” She waved her hands vaguely. “As long as you can get to a healer in three days, you should be fine.”

“But—”

“Look,” the witch snapped, “if you want, you can wait here for three days and find out the hard way, and I can cure you. I’m sure you saw for yourself what that looks like.”

A shiver went down Ed’s spine. “No, I’m good.”

“I’m glad we’ve reached an understanding. Feel free to visit our coven any time you want. Now, about that letter…” Ed jumped a bit. The letter, of course. The whole reason why he had done any of this to begin with.

“I well remember Cyndassa blabbering on about the Queen's private affairs. Amazing what a few drops of wine will do to loosen a young girl's tongue. It isn't just every day a letter from the Emperor is delivered, especially as, you know, the Queen isn't all that fond of him.”

“Uh huh,” he replied dully. He really didn’t have as much of a grasp on the political situation as the woman seemed to think, but he didn’t want to interrupt.

“Cyndassa said that letter was the only one she'd ever seen from him,” she continued, “and was shocked when the Queen gasped and exclaimed ‘Why, this isn't for me, it's addressed to Mynisera.’ Poor Cyndassa.” The last statement had a healthy serving of sarcasm. “She immediately thought that she'd misunderstood the courier and given that letter to the wrong noble. She was so relieved when Aubk-i didn't make a fuss and said she'd make sure the Queen Mother got it promptly, and not to worry herself over it.”

“Thanks,” Ed replied curtly. He had quickly written down the gist of her statement in his logbook. Frowning, he turned to Envy, who had been watching the exchange with glee, followed by boredom. They walked out, with Ed taking the opportunity to get a breath of fresh air. He nervously touched the scar on his shoulder, and heard Envy laughing from behind him.

“I dunno, Fullmetal,” Envy said, smirking, “I think lycanthropy’d do wonders for your looks!”

“Fuck off.” He grabbed Envy’s arm and teleported away, leaving empty space in the spot where they had stood.

They reappeared outside of the palace. Envy jerked his arm away from Ed’s grip, stumbling back, looking nauseated.

“Warn me next time, asshole.”

“No.” With that he trudged off in search of a temple.

* * *

As Ed walked through the town, he frowned to himself, considering the information he had learned. This letter he was searching for didn’t seem to be such a trivial matter any more. There was something fishy going on, and Ed was determined to get to the bottom of things. Before any of that, however, he had to prepare himself for the long voyage to Wayrest. He bustled around town until the sun set, bouncing between shops while bickering with Envy. 

Tomorrow they would depart by sea, cutting through the Bay. The idea of being stuck on a boat for fifteen days, let alone with Envy, was not appealing in the slightest, but he would grit his teeth and bear it. Thank God he only needed a one-way trip, thanks to Teleport.

He kicked his shoes off by the fire, pulled out a set of needles and threads, and began repairing his clothes. Sure, he could just make new ones, but he had grown to enjoy the task. It was mindless and time-consuming, and anything that could take his mind off the garbage fire his life had become was a relief.

Envy sat in the corner, sulking about one thing or the other. He had quickly learned that excessive complaining would get his talking privileges revoked, so he simply brooded about not being able to insult Ed instead. 

“Hey.” Envy broke the silence. Ed paused his sewing, shooting a warning glare at the homunculus.

“Don’t give me that look. This is important.” Ed considered for a second, then decided to let him continue, shrugging his shoulders and returning to his work.

“I’ve been thinking—”

“That’s a first.”

“Shut up, brat! Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the potential of this place.”

Ed frowned, turning his attention back to Envy. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. We both have things we want.”

It was a generic-sounding statement, but the implications weighed heavily over the room. Ed knew exactly what Envy was talking about.

“Before, we were limited by the laws of alchemy,” Envy continued, waving his hand. “But now? I mean, shit, what _can’t_ you do here?”

Ed’s scowl deepened. He suddenly hissed, recoiling his hand. He had accidentally pricked his thumb with a needle. He placed it against his lips, feeling the faint metallic taste on his tongue as he considered the statement.

He wouldn’t pretend like he hadn’t thought about finding some other way to get his brother’s body back using magic instead of alchemy. From his perspective, it was like a Philosopher’s Stone had been dropped into his lap, free of charge. But what was the point in knowing how to get his brother’s body back if he didn’t know how to get back to his brother?

“Whatever, I can see you’re going to mope about this.” Envy turned over, doing his best imitation of sleep. “Just think about it.” 

Ed had rented a room with one bed, which he slept on, while Envy got to lie on the floor. The homunculus had protested, but Ed had pointed out that he didn’t need to sleep, and that the concept of comfort was essentially meaningless to him. Envy had protested that it was a matter of pride, not comfort, but he had been silenced before he could continue his bitching. He had grudgingly accepted the arrangement by rationalizing it as a cost-cutting measure. Truthfully, the difference in cost was negligible, but the enjoyment he got out of making Envy sleep on the floor was priceless.

Once he had finished his repairs, he stretched, slouching over to his bed. He passed out instantly, once more falling into the world of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORE CORNER: LYCANTHROPY  
> Lycanthropy starts as a variety of diseases, depending on what kind of were-creature you're talking about. Your classic werewolves start out with Sanies Lupinus, and after three days, it progresses into lycanthropy. The Illiac Bay is also home to wereboars, but they're functionally identical from a gameplay perspective.
> 
> Outside of the games, there are all manner of werebeasts we never see. Supposedly, there's at least one wereshark around the oceans of Tamriel, but it's debatable how true that claim is.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and stay safe out there!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably update this every week (on Thursdays, since that's when I posted this I guess). If or when this fic crosses the 100k threshold and I'm no longer bound by NaNoWriMo, that might change, but we'll see.


End file.
